


Withdrawal

by Sweetestcondition



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Red Templar Cullen, Red Templars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2018-03-01 00:46:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 50,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2753354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetestcondition/pseuds/Sweetestcondition
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just after his first kiss with Ellana Lavellan, Cullen realizes he wants to give more to her and the Inquisition than he is physically able. His lyrium addiction has weakened him and fearing the side effects will overtake him... he makes a decision. A decision that he hopes he will not regret. (Cullen x Fem Inquisitor) *Caution heavy spoilers* Cross posted on Fanfiction.net</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crave

**Chapter 1**

_Cullen_

Cullen followed her every step with his eyes as she descended the stairs from the battlements. She would likely return to the main keep to continue with the constant preparations required of her. Maker she was beautiful. How could she even doubt for a moment that he could have feelings for her? Even if she was a mage. But he knew that the old Cullen fresh from the Circle of Ferelden would have felt very differently. He shook the thought from his mind.

When Ellana Lavellan was completely out of sight, Cullen turned his attention to the last glimmer of sun before it retreated behind the snowcapped peaks in the distance. The frigid wind whipped through his hair and stung his eyes. A welcome diversion. Perhaps the wind could help clear his mind.

But he could already feel its control over him welling from within.

Cullen buried his head in his hands.

Not five minutes after he'd finally mustered the courage to kiss her - the nervousness and excitement of it all had already been replaced by the familiar dull ache and crawling skin of need.

He kicked the solid wall of the rampart, hissing in pain when it struck.

Lyrium. It truly will be my undoing.

Cullen wanted nothing more than to follow Lavellan - Ellana as she'd insisted he call her - to ask her to sit with him a while longer. The side effects of withdrawal somehow felt milder when he was in her presence. But he knew any time he spent with her was time she spent away from the Inquisition. She was The Inquisitor and he The Commander of the Inquisition's forces. It was bad enough that word would get out of their kiss. People would talk. He would rather their private affairs remain private, but there was no getting around it.

He smiled. That poor messenger. He had nearly taken the man's head off after he'd interrupted them together. Cullen wasn't sure if the man would go right to the barracks and spread the rumor of what he'd seen or if he'd be too scared to say anything at all after how he'd snapped at him.

His thoughts wandered again from the taste of her kiss and the warmth of her body against his to the balm of his last lyrium draught. Its tingling heat would cure his foggy thoughts and the dull ache in his muscles.

Cullen shook his head. This wasn't right. How was he worthy of the affection of the Inquisitor? Even more, how in the Maker's name was he fit to lead any soldier into battle?

He skulked back to his office in the tower and pored over reports until his candle had nearly burned out. That night the dreams ravaged his sleep. The Circle in Ferelden. Knight-Commander Merideth. Demons. When he called out in the night, he knew no one could hear him. Or if they could, no one ever spoke of it.

* * *

 

Days had passed before Cullen finally sought the resolution that he knew was necessary. He stared across the courtyard at the quartermaster's door. He'd just seen Cassandra go inside. She was the person closest to understanding the depth of his addiction. She would certainly see the signs that the side effects were taking their toll. She would know he couldn't do this any longer.

When he opened the door, he found Cassandra chatting with the quartermaster. Cullen narrowed his eyes at him, praying he would take the hint.

"I'll… uh… just leave you two, then," he stammered, tripping on the corner of the table as he left the room.

"You could have just asked politely for a moment," Cassandra said, sounding surprisingly like she was joking with him.

At least he'd picked a good time for this conversation.

"I'm sure you remember our discussion about my… condition." Cullen straightened his gauntlet, finally meeting her eyes.

Cassandra stood silent, waiting as he tried to find the words to continue.

"Well, over the last week, it has become obvious to me that I am unable to continue to handle my duties without distraction," he knew his word choice still wasn't weighty enough to describe the level of debilitation he was feeling. "It has become more than mere distraction. I fear that the physical and mental stresses are overcoming my decision making."

Cassandra crossed her arms over her chest. "I have seen no evidence of this, Commander."

He clenched his teeth. She still wasn't admitting what he knew was obvious. She could not be so blind. "I suggest you seriously begin considering who would be next in line as my replacement."

Cassandra's brow formed a hard line. "There is no need. You have continued to fulfill all duties as Commander. In fact, your recent victories in the field suggest that you are more than just capable." Cullen heard the bite in that last word as it echoed off of the stone walls around them.

"Then you are not judging accurately." He gestured, palms open at his sides as if putting himself on display. "Just look at me! Sweating, trembling, and pale as the dying -this is what you expect of the Commander of the Inquisition's Forces?"

"You asked for my opinion and I've given it. Why would you expect it to change?"

"I expect you to keep your word." Cullen rubbed his forehead with his palm. "It's relentless – I can't –"

"You give yourself too little credit."

"If I'm unable to fulfill what vows I've kept then nothing good has come of this. Would you rather save face than admit – "

The door opened to the last person he wished to see at that moment.

He prayed to the Maker that she hadn't heard too much of that, but when she approached, eyebrows knitted in concern for him, Cullen knew that she had. He did not deserve her sympathy.

"Forgive me," he managed, before he slipped toward the door.

He heard Cassandra behind him. "And people say I'm stubborn. This is ridiculous."

He closed the door and leaned against the outside of it for a moment. With a sigh, he pushed himself toward his quarters. Each step up to the tower was an achy reminder of the state he was in. The door to his office seemed heavier, the hinges creakier as he made his way to his desk chair. He hesitated before reaching into his drawer and opening the case. He glared at the pieces of his past - the tools with which to mix lyrium and transfer the proper dosage into vials for drinking. He'd always preferred to control his own dosage.

He allowed himself to finally grapple with the back and forth in his mind. His will against the pain. His promise to himself against the creeping fog of craving. Cullen stood for what seemed like hours until he reached a breaking point.

He was weak. He balled his fists and shut his eyes. He thought he could fight these feelings, fight the pain, but he was wrong. The lyrium was winning this battle. He lunged for the corner of the case and flung it across the room near the open door.

It slammed against the wall nearly hitting her as she entered.

Ellana.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_Ellana_

As Ellana entered Cullen's office, she immediately jumped backward, dodging a wooden case that Cullen had just hurled full force against the wall. Bottles and trinkets within the case rattled to the floor and then it was still.

Cullen's mouth was open before he stammered for an apology. "Makers breath! I didn't hear you enter. I-" He looked down, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. "Forgive me."

Ellana wanted to go to him then, to embrace him and let him know that she could help him if he would only let her. Instead, she tried her hardest to be calm. "Cullen if you need to talk…"

At the very least, she would make herself available. She wasn't sure what this was between them or if it was anything at all besides an innocent kiss, but she did need him as Commander. She didn't know what Cullen's true feelings were, but she knew when she saw the grimace on his face and the sweat dripping down the sides of his face, that she cared for this man. His suffering moistened her eyes.

"You don't have to – " but Cullen stumbled before he could finish, groaning as he stabilized himself against the corner of the desk. His voice grew softer, distant. "I never meant for this to interfere."

Ellana grappled with what to say to a man battling against his own will. She had never seen him so weak. He looked vulnerable for the first time since - well ever, and it worried her. "Are you going to be alright?"

"Yes," he answered, too quickly. He leaned over his desk and sighed. "I don't know."

And that was the honest truth of it. Ellana knew something of lyrium withdrawal, but had never seen it up close. Mages used lyrium to enhance certain spells, to become more powerful for a time, but never had she become dependent on the substance for her base abilities as Templars must. It was almost hard to imagine.

Cullen straightened himself and continued. "You asked what happened to Ferelden's Circle. It was taken over by abominations. The Templars – my friends – were slaughtered." His breathing still came in sharp gasps as he turned to look out the tower window. "I was tortured. They tried to break my mind, and I –" a small sad chuckle escaped him. "How can you be the same person after that?"

Ellana stood silently, hoping that baring his emotions for her would be healing for him. He deserved peace after what he'd experienced.

"Still. I wanted to serve. They sent me to Kirkwall. I trusted my Knight-Commander, and for what? Her fear of mages ended in madness." His eyes seemed distant as they traced the horizon far beyond the walls of Skyhold. "Kirkwall's Circle fell. Innocent people died in the streets." He turned to look at her then. His caramel eyes, once sweet and soft had hardened in their pain and anger. "Can't you see why I want nothing to do with that life?"

"Of course I can. I – " she took a step toward him. Trying to convey her empathy and concern with nothing but her expression, but it was as if he couldn't see. Or chose not to.

"Don't," he snapped. "You should be questioning what I've done." He rubbed his face, wincing with pain or memory. Ellana couldn't tell which. "I thought this would be better. That I would regain some control over my life but these thoughts won't leave me…" Cullen's words came more desperate and hurried as he continued. "How many lives depend on our success? I swore myself to this cause… I will not give less to the Inquisition than I gave to the chantry. I should be taking it!" He growled, his desperation punctuated with a frantic blow to the wall. Something clattered to the ground as he repeated his earlier words, this time in a whisper, "I should be taking it."

Ellana decided that this wouldn't change who she knew Cullen to be. He was a capable commander, who happened to be in the throes of a very serious addiction. She had never seen this side of him, it was true. He had always been the perfect gentleman with her. Generous and charming, but she knew he was strong-willed too. He had to be after all he'd been through. Ellana knew he could come through this.

"This doesn't have to be about the Inquisition." Ellana wondered if Cullen were able to separate his sense of duty from the choice, if he'd still want to be free of the lyrium, if only for personal reasons. Was this a way to prove his transcendence over his past? She didn't know, but she could ask. "Is this what  _you_ want?"

Immediately, she saw the power of her words. He exhaled, his clenched fists slid down the wall as they relaxed. His voice sounded weary when he finally answered. "No."

Ellana took the opportunity to close the space between them, standing near him as he continued. "But… these memories have always haunted me. If they become worse – if I cannot endure this…"

She placed her open palm against his chest plate, pausing a moment as she looked into his broken expression. "You can."

He exhaled, a deep sigh of acceptance. "Alright."

Ellana offered a gentle smile before she decided it best to leave it at that. He obviously needed time to himself and she needed to think things over. She turned to leave, but not before stealing one last glance at her weary commander. His shoulders were hunched over with the weight of the load he carried, but he would not allow her to take some of the burden.

She walked along the battlements, allowing the last part of the afternoon sun to warm her shoulders. There had to be something that could help Cullen through this. If it wasn't lyrium, was there some kind of healing magic that could make the pain more tolerable?

Before she knew where she'd been headed, she found herself slipping quietly into the library, hoping to find the only mage here who might be able to help her with this kind of research.

Ellana startled as she heard a voice not a foot behind her. "To what do I owe the pleasure this fine afternoon?" Ellana realized she'd found exactly who she'd been looking for. Well, he'd found her first to be more accurate.

"Maker, Dorian! Do you have to do that every time?"

Dorian chuckled, emerging from behind the shelf where he'd been searching and organizing the stacks.

"Not every time, my dear. Only when I've tired of perusing your musty old tomes," he said, pinching his nose and holding out a book as though it were a dead rat he'd just discovered in the corner.

"Do you have a moment," Ellana asked, trying to turn the conversation onto a serious path.

Dorian looked her up and down, sizing up the situation. "Certainly."

Ellana led the way back up onto the battlements. It was the only place she truly felt was private in Skyhold. The way the wind whistled and carried your words up and away with each gust, ensured no one could eavesdrop on a conversation up here.

When she'd led him to a private stretch of stone overlooking the highest of the Frostbacks, Ellana allowed her guard to drop.

"It's Cullen."

"Well of course it is. These strapping young military types are always the most trouble," he smiled – a knowing smile that cut through her outer façade.

"Did you know?"

"Well," he leaned against a stone outcropping, cocky and infuriatingly confident as usual, "it's hard to ignore the chatter after the Inquisitor and Commander were seen getting  _friendly_ out on the battlements. But even before, let's just say you and Cullen would make a terrible pair of Wicked Grace players."

Although Ellana was curious about Dorian's thought process with this one, it was not the reason for her visit.

"I know, I haven't made much of a point in hiding my feelings for him, but that's not why I came to talk to you." She paused, breathing in the sharp cold of the air fresh off of the snowy peaks. "It's Cullen. He's… he's in terrible pain."

Dorian closed his eyes. "Lyrium withdrawal is a very serious concern."

Ellana turned back to him, wrinkling her brow. "How?" She exhaled. It was not even worth questioning how he knew this too.

"The signs are as clear as the perfectly sculpted nose on my face," he smirked. Enjoying his own humor as usual. But then he looked out over the snowy landscape, pausing under the weight of what he would say next. "I've heard of great men crippling under the weight of similar addictions."

His words were a cold spell to her gut.

"I… what can we do?" she replied, the strength suddenly siphoned from her voice.

Dorian took a step closer, offering a hand on her arm in comfort. "I may not have the same ties I once did, but there are people in Tevinter who may have the knowledge I lack. It may be no more than a salve for a vicious burn, but I will look into it."

Ellana was grateful for any help he could give. She could not continue to watch Cullen suffer like this.

"Thank you."


	3. Cave

**Chapter 3**

_Cullen_

The icy breath of early morning flurries danced around the walls of Skyhold. Cullen savored the bite of each gust as pins and needles spread across his cheeks. The nightmares were getting worse - something he thought to be impossible. The nightly ritual of suffering through another demon's unique torture was becoming too much to endure. It was as though he traveled back to Ferelden's Circle every time he fell asleep. An infinite cycle of torment. So he had dressed early for the day. Fatigue was better than the dreams.

He looked out over the darkened landscape. It was so peaceful before sunrise. There was no sound, save for the whistle of the wind across the stone. The landscape surrounding the fortress was positively unforgiving. Skyhold stood as a sanctuary, a bright spot in the cold desolate world surrounding them.

_She_  was another bright spot. Cullen shut his eyes, conjuring up the image of her, smiling back at him after their kiss.

"Ellana." He tried her name into the dark chill of the night. It felt comforting on his lips.

Cullen ran his fingers through his hair, his palms coming to rest on the sides of his head as he leaned against the wall. He had treated her so unfairly through all of this. She'd been nothing but understanding while he raged and carried on, nearly hitting her with a wooden box in a complete loss of control.

He wanted to apologize, but she had left two days ago. Another incredibly dangerous trip to investigate the Venatori presence in the Western Approach. What a cursed wasteland that was. He hoped he would have his chance to make things right.

As Cullen continued to watch, black turned to deep purple in the East. Finally, golden beams of light crept across the world, spreading the dawn until everything was bathed in their warm glow.

Footfalls on the stone behind him interrupted his reverie.

"Commander, your report on the route through the Frostbacks is ready."

Cullen turned, recognizing the messenger as a newer recruit. Arran was his name, Cullen recalled. He had been assigned to the party sent to scout the mountains for passage.

Arran shifted uncomfortably and continued. "You may want to look at it. There were a few..." the man fidgeted, "setbacks."

Cullen pressed his lips together, holding out his hand for the reports. "What kind of setbacks?"

The messenger tentatively pulled several sheets of parchment from a satchel he wore at his side.

Arran's eyes shifted to his feet. "The men say there weren't enough of us. There were-" he paused, his mouth strung into a tight line, "things. Up in those mountains."

Cullen leaned forward. "What kind of things?"

"Honestly Commander…" Arran turned toward the mountaintops, a visible shiver running through him. "I… we don't know what happened to the men that went ahead." He let out a long breath. "Except that they didn't return."

A wave of nausea threatened to claim Cullen's balance as he fought for a steadying hold on the wall. All he could do was shake his head, open mouthed, staring at Arran.

"The few who stayed behind with the supplies were the only ones who made it back," he continued. "We looked for the men, but all we found were… parts. We did secure a path, but only after most were lost."

"Maker, what have I done?" Cullen whispered.

"The others said it looked like darkspawn," Arran said. "Not human is all we can really be sure of." Arran stepped forward. "Commander… um," he cocked his head, finally noticing Cullen's physical state. "Are you alright."

Cullen nodded, trying his best to straighten himself. "Yes, I will be," he said. "It is an unexpected blow. Tell the men to rest and let me know if you need anything more."

"Yes Commander." Arran nodded before heading in the direction he came.

Cullen dragged himself back to his office, clutching the report in his hand. He slumped into his desk chair and read the report again and again.

He had made a grave mistake sending those men. He'd sent such a small group, twenty or so, to explore a dangerous stretch of land. If only he'd sent more, he was sure his soldiers were trained well enough to handle a small horde of darkspawn. There couldn't have been many of them, otherwise he'd have heard about the darkspawn presence before this. A few more men would have meant the difference. To the soldiers… to their families.

Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose. His whirling thoughts seemed out of control. He had misjudged yet again and was now still so distracted by his sickness that he could hardly plan his next move. He should inform the soldiers' families of course. There should be services.

The nausea he'd felt earlier returned in a violent wave, the contents of his stomach churning until he retched uncontrollably. He had no time to do it neatly. He was lucky he'd had time enough to turn his head away from his desk to avoid his pile of reports. Sour bile burned his mouth and nose, gagging him again until there was nothing left to choke on.

When the nausea finally passed, Cullen was drained. It was still early morning and he could hardly pull himself off of the floor. Pathetic.

He leaned on his chair, straightening himself to reach the water on his desk. He rinsed his mouth out, waiting for the episode to pass, but the dizziness only seemed to get worse. He leaned back against the wall and sank down to the floor, knees to his chest. The guilt from his poor decision weighed just as heavily on his mind as the thick fog of sickness. He could hardly tell them apart anymore. This was not living. This was dying slowly. And it was his choice.

He felt the burn of emotion behind his eyes as he considered the only way out. He was almost forced to crawl to his desk, leaning heavily on it as he opened the drawer revealing both his enemy and savior. Cullen reached in, clutching the vial of lyrium, already mixed and ready to drink. Several nights ago, he'd climbed down from his bed after a particularly unbearable night of fitful dreams and mixed it. He had stared at the wretched thing until dawn, but he couldn't bring himself to drink it.

Cullen turned the tiny bottle in his shaking hands.

He was broken. Even  _he_  could not do this forever.

_Maker please forgive me._

Cullen took a deep breath and tipped the contents of the vial into his mouth and swallowed.


	4. Delve

**Chapter 4**

_Ellana_

Ellana reached for a towel, having soaked for long enough to begin to feel like herself again. She had just returned to Skyhold last night after a longer than anticipated trek to the Western Approach. It was not a place she'd like to visit again. She felt like she'd be picking sand out of her teeth for weeks.

She wanted to check on Cullen before everyone was pulled their separate ways for the day's duties.

She had left unexpectedly a few weeks ago. As always with tracking the Venatori , time was of the essence and she left without hardly any warning. But she had regretted leaving without being able to say goodbye.

Goodbyes: another silly human custom she'd picked up. Ellana's laugh echoed off the walls in the empty room around her.

She wondered what Keeper Istimaethoriel would say if they ever saw each other again. Maybe Keeper wouldn't be surprised at all by her adoption of human customs. Ellana had always felt a little like an outsider looking in. She'd never chosen a pantheon symbol tattoo which was nearly unheard of in any Dalish clan. It was only the strength of her magic that kept her close to the Lavellan Clan. They had needed her.

But now the Inquisition needed her more.

Ellana dressed and made her way out of the main keep, nodding her greetings to travelers and agents of the Inquisition as she passed. Varric was tinkering with Bianca just outside the keep. He'd been with her out on the dry sands of the Western Approach and from the looks of it, his beloved crossbow had taken a beating too.

"Good morning." Ellana cocked her head to search for the source of Varric's frustration. "Looks like Bianca had just as much fun out there as we did."

"My poor beautiful girl." He caressed the barrel before going back to pulling at the cocking stirrup. "I'm sure she just needs a little more greasing and stroking," he winked.

"Ahhhh but don't we all." Dorian had come from behind them. He was holding a steaming cup of something that smelled of spice.

Ellana rolled her eyes in Dorian's direction. "Do you ever stop?"

"Being amazingly dashing and witty? That would be such a bore."

"Sparkler, unless you brought one of those for everyone," Varric gestured to Dorian's mug, "it may be too early in the morning for dashing and witty."

Dorian just threw his head back, letting a hearty laugh escape. Ellana couldn't help but smile.

Varric turned his attention back to Bianca, picking up the conversation. "Where were you headed so early, Inquisitor?"

"I was going to check with Cullen. See if-"

Dorian whispered under his breath. "Speaking of greasing and stroking."

Ellana's expression hardened as she tried her best to ignore the heat coming to her cheeks. Varric somehow managed to swallow his laugh and she continued, holding Dorian's eyes. "See if everything was going well with our troops."

Ellana still felt so unsure about what it was she had actually shared with Cullen -especially after what had happened between them just before she left for the Western Approach. He had been suffering so obviously. He'd been so cold and distant, only softening for a moment before slamming his guard back up. Pair her uncertainty with her general lack of confidence around men she was attracted to and she was not ready for jokes on the subject.

"Well, I can see our Inquisitor is in no mood to play. I'm going to finish my tea before you manage to take the heat of that, too. Good day." Dorian smiled and winked at Ellana, trying to make amends for what he probably knew had been an ill-timed play on words. She knew he meant only to make her laugh. Everyone knew she needed it.

Ellana smiled back as Dorian spun to take the stairs.

"Good luck with Bianca," Ellana said, before she turned to cross the courtyard.

"Thanks," Varric looked up from his work and called after her, "and for what it's worth. Curly is head over heels for you. He's just got a lot going on lately."

Ellana nodded. She'd heard the same from others: Sera, Bull and Dorian. But she wasn't sure Varric understood the extent of what "a lot going on lately" actually was. Still, it was nice to hear it from him. If Varric could see it, then truly she wasn't imagining their connection.

Ellana made her way to Cullen's tower slowly, surprised at the feeling of her heartbeat speeding up in her chest. She tried to calm herself. Stomach butterflies and flip flopping hearts seemed so juvenile. In fact, she could remember the last time she'd had these feelings with someone else. It was at least six or seven years ago. Neron, a Dalish archer of her clan. She closed her eyes and looked down at the soft grass at her feet. He'd been killed - mauled by a bear on a hunting trip. At least, that's the story the clan elders gave.

She breathed in the crisp morning air, taking each step up to the battlements slowly. She stopped when she reached the last step. Cullen was standing, back to her, looking out over the glittering snowy backdrop. Somehow the view was always breathtaking, but with him standing there proudly, the dark fur ruff on the shoulders of his outer armor catching the breeze, it was as if he was silently commanding her to stare.

So much for avoiding those juvenile stomach butterflies.

Many Dalish in her clan spoke of the bulkier human build as too thick for their taste. The lithe muscles of the Dalish were more attractive to the others back home. But they had never seen Cullen. He was tall when standing sure of himself, as he was this morning. Ellana hoped that meant he was feeling better. His blonde hair, normally tame and combed back was lashing around in the wind, giving him a wild look. His armor was flattering, a coordinated palette of darks with reds.

How long he knew she was standing there watching, she couldn't tell. But when he spoke, it caught her off guard. "I wanted to thank you… when you came to see me… " He turned to face her. "If there's anything…" Cullen mussed the hair at the nape of his neck and exhaled loudly. "This sounded much better in my head," he said, staring off at the courtyard. She recognized that endearing awkwardness she'd seen from time to time when he discussed their personal relationship. What a relief to see the color back in his complexion.

Ellana couldn't help but smile. "I trust you're feeling better?"

"I…" he met her eyes then. "Yes."

"Is it always that bad?" She didn't want to pry, but she wanted to know more so she could help him somehow.

"The pain comes and goes. Sometimes I feel as if I'm back there." He turned toward the courtyard again, as if looking past everything around him. "I should not have pushed myself so far that day."

"I'm just glad you're alright."

"I am."

He turned around to look out over the mountains then and Ellana took a few steps to stand beside him.

"I've never told anyone what truly happened to me at Ferelden's Circle. I was… not myself after that. I was angry." He shook his head, his brows forming a hard line. "For years that anger blinded me. I'm not proud of the man that made me."

The wind whistled across the stone and Cullen's voice dropped to almost a whisper. "The way I saw mages… I'm not sure I would have cared about you and the thought of that sickens me." He turned to her then, his eyes shone with the same softness she remembered. "Now I can put some distance between myself and everything that happened. It's a start."

"For what it's worth, I like who you are now."

"Even after…?" His eyebrows raised with the question.

Did he think that his show of emotion had scared her off?

She tried her best to reassure him. "Cullen, I care about you. You've done nothing to change that." It would take more than that to send her running.

A slow smile unfurled across his lips. They stood there, eyes locked in understanding for a moment before Cullen spoke again. "What about you. You have troubles of your own. How are you holding up?"

She almost said what came easiest. That she was okay. But it wasn't the truth and she wanted so much to let Cullen in. To trust someone.

"Honestly, I'm terrified. So many people depend on us. On me," she was talking too fast again, but she couldn't help it. "Corypheus is still out there."

"We've made great strides. Do not doubt yourself – or the Inquisition – just yet. If there's anything I can do, you have only to ask." He gestured to his heart, a motion she'd seen him make with his troops countless times.

He was Commander Cullen at the moment. But Ellana wanted just Cullen.

Her heart thumped hard in her chest as she leaned in toward him, raising an eyebrow. "Anything?"

Cullen smiled, this time with his eyes too as tiny wrinkles formed at their corners. "Especially if it's the anything I've been thinking of."

She felt the blush on her cheeks as he closed the space between them. He leaned in, lightly brushing his lips over hers the first time. Ellana was dizzy with the sense of him before he fully pressed his lips against hers. He tugged just slightly on her hair and their bodies closed the small distance between them. His hands were gentle, but firm as he held her where he needed her. He guided her to take several steps backward, lips still interlocked, hands busy exploring the curve of her body until she leaned against the wall of the battlement. He was everywhere, all around her in touch, in taste, in smell and he was intoxicating. He was leather and spices and magic. And then he pulled away.

Ellana was slightly embarrassed by the way her body had reacted, but she could see by the flush on Cullen's face that he felt the same way.

"I'm sorry. I-"

Ellana pressed a fingertip to his lips. "Don't."

She kissed him one more time, slowly and gently, and this time when their lips parted he smiled.

They both exhaled loudly, sighing at the same time and she chuckled. Cullen gave her a playful half smile and grabbed her hand, walking her back to the stairwell.

"Thank you for-" he paused. "Thank you."

He dropped her hand and watched her descend the stairs. When she looked up at him from across the courtyard, he hadn't moved an inch.


	5. Leave

**Chapter 5**

_Cullen_

Cullen's morning was packed with reports and meetings. Then more meetings. Then work at the training grounds. Then writing letters and finally… another meeting.

The only thing keeping him sane was  _her_. Ever since this morning, her scent lingered around him, tangled in the ruff of his armor. A new, welcome distraction. The forest floor, lavender, and sunlight. That was Ellana. He breathed in one more time, trying hard to pay attention to Josephine, who was filling him in on some new alliances with the noble houses of Orlais who were sending aid to the Western Approach. There had been stirrings near the Abyssal Rift and she hoped these nobles would be sending aid to their cause.

"You could at least feign interest, Commander. Even Cassandra has learned that much." Josephine jotted a last note and began organizing her paperwork.

"I'm sorry. I really do appreciate all of the alliances we can form. It's just been a – " he sighed. "Long day."

"I cannot argue with that." Josephine rubbed her forehead before finishing straightening the materials her desk.

Reading her hint, Cullen stood. The backs of his legs were pins and needles from sitting. "Thank you."

Josephine nodded and he took his leave.

Cullen really needed some time away from this place. Just a few days. Things had lined up perfectly. There were some leads on new recruits in Southwest Ferelden, very close to Honnleath. He'd had the idea of visiting his childhood home while he was there, just to take in some familiar scenery. Fishing by the lake in the misty morning dawn. Eating a hearty southern Ferelden meal at the pub. He thought about making a trip of it. He'd even considered inviting Ellana. He wasn't sure if she'd think it was an idiotic idea. Maybe it was. They were in the middle of a struggle with an ancient former-magister-turned-darkspawn. Rifts were torn in the sky, Thedas was turned upside down, and he just wanted to go home.

He shook his head.

Yes it was an idiotic idea.

He pushed the thought away as he continued through the main room in the keep. There were still several hours of sunlight left judging from the angle of the shadows in the main hall. As he emerged from the keep, he squinted against the bright outdoors. When his eyes adjusted, he spotted Dorian leaning up against a tree in the courtyard, thumbing through some old forgotten tome as usual. Maybe he'd be up for a diversion.

He crossed the open square until he reached the mage. "Care for a game?"

Dorian sighed. "I'll never finish memorizing the names of all of the eligible bachelors in Orlais at this rate," Dorian looked up with a smirk.

Cullen mock-bowed. "Pardon the interruption, Ser. I wouldn't dream of delaying such a grand pursuit."

Dorian laughed. "You are learning. I'll give you that."

Dorian had teased Cullen about how serious he'd been when they first met. Cullen had begun to really enjoy the mage's company, especially since they were both experienced chess players. Cullen had to agree that he'd learned to relax a bit and he was starting to appreciate Dorian's humor as well. They'd also been able to teach each other a thing or two about chess strategy.

Dorian closed his book and the two started walking to their usual table. They had chosen a space in the fresh air just off the courtyard for their games. Tucked away enough to avoid too many disturbances, but still accessible if someone really needed them. Most everyone knew to look for him here if he wasn't in his own office or in a meeting.

"You have an interesting aura this evening Commander." Dorian only called him commander when he was teasing him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Cullen cocked an eyebrow.

"Oh, I don't know," he twisted he end of his mustache as he continued walking. "But a wee little bird told me I'm not the only mage who enjoys your company."

Cullen shook his head. "And as we discussed during our last game, I am quite fond of this other mage as well. Can we leave it at that?"

He felt as though he'd never become used to talking with someone about his personal relationships. Back in the Ferelden Circle, he'd developed feelings for one of the mages there, but disclosing such feelings would have come with dire consequences. He'd learned to stay quiet and not act on any emotions he may have had. He'd been so angry after his experiences in the Circle that he hadn't noticed another woman for years after. He'd had a few short relationships in Kirkwall, but he'd shared these interactions with no one in the Order. He had always feared those he cared for could be used against him somehow.

When they reached their table, Dorian handed him the box of game pieces. "Black or white today?"

Cullen reached for the white pieces and began placing them on the board as Dorian sat down across from him.

Dorian glanced around a moment before leaning forward across the table. "When did you take it?" he asked in a hushed tone.

"What?" Cullen narrowed his eyes, wary of another one of Dorian's jokes.

"When did you take the Lyrium?"

Cullen's voice caught in his throat. "I didn't… I…" He ran his hand through his hair, pausing a moment to clear his throat. "How did you know?"

Dorian made his first move with a pawn as he always did. "At first when I sensed the magic around you, I thought it was from your time spent with your little birdie."

Cullen moved his opposite pawn.

"But when you chose the white pieces, it was clear. Something major had changed." Dorian made another move and leaned back into his chair. "We have been playing together for months and you've only ever chosen black."

Cullen shook his head. "I never even noticed."

"That and just look at you. Your color has returned and your hands are steady. Last time we played you were shaking so badly I almost offered to help you set up your side of the board."

They played in silence for a few minutes before Cullen spoke again. "You know, I had no choice."

Dorian waved a hand between them. "You don't have to convince me. I can't imagine how you went as long as you did."

Cullen planted his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands. "How am I going to be free of it, Dorian?"

Dorian exhaled before leaning to his left to retrieve something from a side pocket. He unfolded a thick piece of parchment and handed it to Cullen.

_My Dear Dorian Pavus,_

_Regarding your inquiry into our research regarding medicinal/magical interventions for lyrium withdrawal- we have indeed experienced success in this area with some of our more advanced spellcraft and use of_ alternative _resources. We would love to welcome you and your Templar associate here at House Corvus in person to discuss the matter more thoroughly, because - as you can imagine - prying eyes would be very interested in gleaning secrets from our written exchanges._

_Yours,_

_Javan Corvus_

Cullen folded the note up, with more force than was necessary. "No."

He could not believe Dorian had trusted the details of his most personal struggle with some strange Tevinter mage of all people. He couldn't even manage to tell Ellana until a few weeks ago. He thrust the letter toward Dorian.

"My friend –" Dorian took the letter and tucked it into his pants. "Ellana was very worried for you. Please try to remember how you were feeling a few short days ago before you fail to even consider this option."

"I can't believe you would… without even allowing for how I would feel about this," Cullen played his rook forcefully on his next move, causing the surrounding pieces to rattle against the board.

Dorian's face was marble – completely unfazed – as he straightened the perturbed pieces. "It was actually a favor for Ellana. She came to me worried and asked me to see if there was any way to help you."

"I don't care who asked you to do it. It's not just about going around me with all of this. It's not even about  _who_ you asked for help. It's about my privacy. Now everyone in the realm knows about – "

"Cullen. You know I am not the kind of man to violate another's privacy. Any information I relayed to Javan was perfectly vague," he punctuated his meaning with a wave of his fingers. "All he knows is that some poor Templar sap left the Order to join the Inquisition and is now in the clutches of violent withdrawal. That could apply to dozens of men here." He finished his move and crossed his arms over his chest.

The two played until the sun started to fall behind the tower without speaking another word of lyrium. He had almost forgotten about it, in fact. That was until the thirst slowly returned. The thirst that Cullen knew would not be quenched with water alone.

Cullen forced his focus back to the game, finding that no matter where he went on the board, Dorian's next move would end in conquest. So, Cullen surrendered, playing his knight, knowing full well that his partner would have to call –

"Checkmate! Ha!" Dorian slapped his hands on his knees, smiling. "You see Commander. I do know a thing or two about strategy. Maybe you should trust my opinion on what we discussed earlier."

Before Cullen had a chance to retort, Dorian had swept his pieces into the box and was waltzing back to the Main Hall. Cullen finished clearing the board, moving the pieces slowly as he considered his options.

The guilt had weighed heavily on his mind after he'd started taking the lyrium again. He'd been so embarrassed about needing it that he'd resorted to taking it from the new Templar Recruits' supplies without ever making mention of it. He was not proud of this path he was on. It was just a different kind of suffering.

He knew he needed to get off of it. A lifetime of living at the mercy of lyrium was not an option. He could begin the long journey of physical and mental suffering that lack of lyrium would provide or he could investigate this other option. But Tevinter. Mages of a noble house in Tevinter.  _Alternative_ treatments? Something about it just screamed dishonest. They couldn't be offering to help out of the kindness of their hearts could they? What could they want?

Cullen put the board away and walked back to his office. He needed to think. He needed to get away. But he didn't want to do it alone. He stood in front of his desk, turning his thoughts back to his self-labeled "idiotic idea." Maybe a trip back home to Ferelden wasn't such a bad idea. He had shared the most amazing moment with Ellana this morning and he knew she felt it too. How could trying for more time with someone he cared about be a stupid idea? Besides, if anything ever happened – to either of them – when would he ever get this chance to just  _be_  with her?

Cullen was considering going to look for her when he recognized a soft knock on the door. She entered, looking just as tired as he felt.

Cullen gave her a small smile. "There you are."

The corner of her lip raised in a smug smile. "Were you waiting for me?"

"Yes. I mean, no," he stumbled. Oh Maker, how did she do this to him? He'd known exactly what he wanted to say and now it was as though nothing was left in his head but meaningless babble rattling around.

"Oh good. I've kept and not kept you waiting." Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight. She was teasing him and from the look of it, having a great deal of fun while she was at it.

He sighed, shifting uncomfortably. "Let me start over."

"By all means," she said, her tone dripped with playful mockery.

He rested his hands on his sword hilt, taking a breath to collect himself. "We have some dealings in Ferelden. I was hoping you might accompany me. When you can spare the time, of course."

Her expression darkened. "Is something wrong?"

"What?" Oh Maker, he still wasn't being clear. "No. I would rather explain there. If you wish to go."

"I believe there's time now."

Cullen smiled, reminding himself to breathe to keep from sounding like a stammering mess again. "I will make the necessary arrangements."

Ellana took a few steps toward the door. "In the morning then?"

He felt much more in control of his words now that she wasn't two feet in front of him. "That should be time enough to prepare."

"See you soon," she called over her shoulder, swaying her backside as she strut out of sight.

_Oh Maker, she must_ know _she's doing that._

Cullen, tired as he was, worked late into the night, preparing everything they would need for their trip to Ferelden. He slept more soundly that night with something… and some _one_ …to look forward to.


	6. Verve

**Chapter 6**

_Ellana_

She had risen with the sun to meet him at the stables. The grounds of the fortress were calm and the birds were only beginning to stir in the trees of the courtyard. Her breath was visible in the crisp morning air as she waited outside the large wooden entry.

Ellana hadn't been standing there long, when Cullen came into view from around the back of the building, leading two horses. And was he…? Yes. He was humming a tune to himself.

He called to her, a wide smile claiming his features. "Good morning my lady."

She couldn't help but grin back at him. Promise of travel to his childhood home had given him a youthful, boyish bounce in his step. "And good morning to you."

Cullen already had his silver horse packed from the looks of it and he'd chosen the chestnut mare for her. She looked around, expecting others to join them - officers, messengers, or some other more experienced troops to accompany them to help with the new recruits they'd be speaking with.

"Are you coming?" Cullen cocked his eyebrow, waiting for her to move from where she stood at the entrance of the stables.

Ellana glanced behind her, then to the other side of the stables. "I thought…" She looked back at their two horses. "I thought we'd have… you know… other-" Then she suddenly realized what this was. He had planned this as a getaway for two.

Cullen rubbed his elbow. "If you don't want to… I mean if you'd rather we have a larger party..."

She took a step toward him before she gave him the wrong idea. "No." She laid her hand gently on his arm. "This is just what I needed."

He reached out to cradle her cheek. She couldn't help but lean into his hand, just enough to bring a smile to his face. Ellana continued to feel his touch long after he had drawn his hand away again. She only remembered to breathe when he had started packing her gear onto the back of her horse.

* * *

Their ride that day was thankfully uneventful. They'd crossed out of the barren mountainous Frostbacks and were into the more manageable woodland terrain of Southwest Ferelden. When they stopped to rest, Cullen put his palm up, signaling her to wait. He pulled a blanket from his pack and spread it out on a soft patch of grass. Then, one by one, he retrieved lunch items and set them out in a picnic for them. He'd managed to pack bread, fancy cheeses, and wine with two extravagant glass wine goblets.

"What's all this?" Ellana met his eyes - wide and sincere and with that half-smile he wore, he looked so much younger. It was as though he'd left everything back at Skyhold and he was just a young man courting the woman he cared for.

"This," he swept his hand over the spread on the blanket "is courtesy of one of those hoity toity Orlesian nobles from the ball who thought she could win me over with an expensive bottle of wine."

Ellana laughed. "Was it the one who grabbed your rear?"

Cullen didn't respond right away, laughing uncomfortably instead. Maybe he'd thought no one had heard about that. "They were… eager. I'll give them that."

She continued, changing the subject. "Besides, I thought you told Lelliana to burn all of the inquiries regarding your  _eligibility_." She drew out the last word just a little longer than she needed to.

He patted the open spot on the blanket next to him. "I did." He reached for a bottle opener and made fast work of the cork. "She burns the letters, but why waste a good bottle of wine?"

He took off his gauntlets, laying them on the grass next to their blanket, and poured her a glass. Ellana realized what an intimate gesture that was for Cullen. She tried to remember if she'd ever seen him without his full armor.

She took the glass, letting the fragrance of the wine fill her senses. Ellana had only tasted wine a few times, so she didn't know good wine from cheap wine. But after a few small sips, she did feel a warmth begin to grow in her body, starting in her stomach and spreading out from there. It made her smile a little wider.

Cullen tore some pieces of bread from a hearty looking loaf he'd brought along, serving one to her and one to himself. "Tell me about your clan. Do you miss them?"

"Sometimes. Especially mother." Ellana took the slices of cheese Cullen passed to her, trying a darker yellow cheese that smelled smoky. "She was the best cook in the entire clan. She could make a feast of anything."

Cullen chewed a bite of bread looking out into the tops of the trees around them. "Nothing quite like a mother's cooking."

Ellana nodded her agreement with a mouth full of cheese.

"Do you have siblings?"

She shook her head. "My father died soon after I was born and mother never met another she could love like him."

Cullen swirled the remaining contents of his glass. He drained the glass and met her eyes. "He would be proud of you. I'm sure they both would."

"Thank you." Ellana took another sip from her glass too. "I like to think they would be, although mother was always a little wary of the strength of my magic."

Cullen ripped off another two portions of bread. "It's easy to be wary of something you do not fully understand."

Ellana knew he spoke from experience.

When they had eaten their fill of bread and cheese and drank their fill of wine, they packed up their horses to continue on to Honnleath. As Cullen was corking the wine, he shook it around a little and put his ear to the side of the bottle.

"Not much left, Inquisitor," he teased, placing the bottle into the pack. "I wouldn't have taken you for a drinker."

She lowered an eyebrow. "As if Commander Cullen didn't get his fair share." Ellana gave his shoulder a spirited shove, smiling before she nearly lost her footing and stumbled into the brush off the trail.

He caught her arms just in time, pinning them at her sides. A teasing smile played on his lips as he drew her near. The tingly feeling from the wine coupled with the closeness of him sent her heart racing. She wondered when her body would stop reacting this way. When she looked up at him, at the intensity of his gaze, her heart answered that question.

_Not anytime soon._

Cullen's hands slid from her arms down to her hands. It was the first time she'd felt his bare hands around hers, without armor between them. He traced the lines on her palms as though he was memorizing the feel of them with his fingers. Then he brought them to his lips and kissed them gently.

It was another four or five hours ride to Honnleath at least, Cullen had said. But the two of them walked side by side, fingers interlaced for more than thirty minutes before they mounted their horses for the rest of the journey.


	7. Prove

**Chapter 7**

_Cullen_

They'd spent the evening at the only inn in Honnleath and had just filled up on a savory beef stew cooked up by the innkeeper's wife. The innkeeper had been running around trying to make sure everything was perfect for the "Herald of Andraste." Cullen had tried to assure them that everything was wonderful and they just wanted to sit and relax at a table by the fire.

They ordered a pint and for the first time in more than a year, Cullen felt safe and satiated. He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes, basking in the heat of the newly stoked fire.

"You look like a different man than the one I left just weeks ago for the Western Approach. Has your..." she bit her lip, "sickness improved?"

Cullen tried not to look visibly disturbed by her question, but he felt his breathing quicken and his palms start sweating. He did not want to disappoint her. Would she see him unfit - both to command her troops and hold her heart - if she knew the truth?

"Yes. It is." He couldn't think of anything to say that would help her understand… and he was feeling better, though perhaps not for the reason she suspected. Still, it wasn't the right time to tell her.

At that moment, the innkeeper's wife turned the corner of the bar holding two pints. Thank the Maker for the woman's impeccable timing.

She set the two mugs down in the center of the table and wiped her hands on her apron. "Anything else I can get for you Herald?" Then she looked to him as a second thought, "Rutherford?" Cullen had discovered he would always be the Rutherford boy when he came back to Honnleath.

"We are fine, for the moment. Thank you." Cullen straightened in his chair to reach his mug.

Luckily, Ellana didn't seem to need any more information about his health. After a few minutes, they relaxed back into conversation. They talked until the rest of the tables had cleared out, then decided with an early morning ahead, to retire to their own rooms on the second floor.

As Cullen sank into a surprisingly soft bed, he felt relaxed for the first time in Maker knows how long. Only the slightest tingly craving for his nightly lyrium draught reminded him that he wasn't being completely true to himself or to her.

He looked over at the side table. He'd taken his dose of lyrium out of his pack and set it down, still debating whether to drink it.

He thought back to Ellana. Any life he wanted after the Inquisition did not involve lyrium. But could he do it all over again? The months of withdrawal and sleepless nights? There was only one other option. Stop taking it and seek help with the side effects of withdrawal. That meant trusting Dorian's contact. If he chose that path, he would need to take it for a few weeks more, until Dorian could accompany him to Tevinter. Things would need to be set in order. All he needed was a few days to travel there. It was very tempting to imagine a way to put all of this behind him.

He turned to the blue bottle, speaking to the potion as if he expected it to argue back. "This hold on me will not last."

His pulse quickened in anticipation as he reached for it. He closed his eyes, allowing the liquid to work its way into him. It spread out once it hit his stomach - hot rivulets of energy coursing through him. His breath hitched as he felt the prickling heat behind his eyes.

He laid back against the headboard, exhaling. As the physical relief washed over him, so did the guilt.

_Just a few more weeks._

He repeated the mantra a few more times before he blew out the candle at the bedside.

* * *

The next morning, Cullen led Ellana to the lake he used to visit as a boy. It was only a ten minute ride from the inn. Billowing mist hung over the water, creating a peaceful private screen around the lake. Water lapped at the sides of the dock, lulling the whole place into a sleepy trance. He walked with her to the end of the short landing over the water.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"You walk into danger every day. I wanted to take you away from that. If only for a moment. I grew up not far from here." He leaned against a beam on the side of the dock, crossing one leg over the other. "This place was always quiet."

"Did you come here often?"

"I loved my siblings. But they were very loud. I would come here to clear my head." As he listened to the frogs croaking and breathed the damp misty air, he remembered why. "Of course," he chuckled, "They always found me eventually."

"You were happy here," she stated matter-of-factly.

"I was. I still am." There were so many memories here. He and Mia chasing frogs and Mother screaming when she'd find them in jars back home. Digging up worms with the boys down the street and then walking here at dawn to fish. As he grew older, he'd escape to the water alone when he worried about Father – missing him when he didn't come home for weeks at a time. Somehow, this place helped him to find himself. The last time he'd been here was just before he'd left to join the Order.

Ellana tilted her head, her tone was guarded when she spoke. "Alone with a mage. That doesn't concern you?" She chewed the inside of her cheek, waiting for his response.

He wished he could assure her that it wasn't like that with her. He hadn't had such thoughts about her since the first time she'd closed that rift. Once he started to learn of her compassion for others, he knew that she wasn't like the others. He'd feared mages for so long, but that was so long ago, and she was… different.

"The Templars have rules on… fraternization. But I'm no longer bound by them." Once it was out of his mouth, it sounded so... formal. So… not the reassurance he should have given her.

She turned to face him, obviously needing more from him. "I know, but… you've seen the worst mages have to offer." She quieted, looking out at the tree line across the lake. "How can you not see that in me?"

"I don't," he said quickly. Trying to explain how he really felt. "I've given you reason to doubt." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, frustrated that with all of the talk of his experiences with mages in the Circle and in Kirkwall, that he'd never managed to tell her that he knew she was incapable of that kind of evil. "Of course I have," he whispered.

 _He_  knew that she was different and that he held her above all of the blood magic and corruption, but he needed _her_  to understand that. He wanted her to know that he had come to trust her. "Whatever I fear of magic, I see none of that in you."

She questioned no further, but he wanted to do more.

"The last time I was here was the day I left for Templar training," he pulled something from his pocket. "My brother gave me this." He held out a small coin, the coin he carried with him everywhere. "It just happened to be in his pocket, but he said it was for luck. Templars are not supposed to carry such things. Our faith should see us through." He closed his fist around the coin like he'd done thousands of times before.

Ellana's lips parted in a devious smile. "You broke the rules? I'm shocked."

He wanted to kiss her then, tell her he wanted to break more rules than that with her, but he had to take his time today. He needed to make things right. "Until a year ago I was very good at following them." He let a chuckle escape. "Most of the time." Even he'd had his fair share of reprimand in his youth. Cullen held the coin out again, turning it over in his palm. "This is the only thing I took from Ferelden that the Templars didn't give me."

Cullen closed the space between them, placing the small token in Ellana's palm. "Humor me," he said, his voice as hushed and calm as the still water around them. He helped her hand into a fist around the coin. Then he took her hand in both of his. "We don't know what you'll face before the end. This can't hurt."

When she responded, her green eyes were wide and sincere. "I'll keep it safe."

"Good." He stepped toward her again, this time putting his hand on her hip. "I know it's foolish but… I'm glad."

He leaned down to rest his forehead on hers, enjoying their closeness. It was she who placed her hand on his face, tracing the line of his jaw as she leaned in to kiss him. He was slow this time. Tender. He wanted to show her how much he cared for the person she was. How much he enjoyed their time together. When their lips parted, she leaned her head into the crook of his neck, her breath sending gooseflesh down his back. They held each other quietly, listening to each other's breathing and the peaceful songs of the pond frogs all around them.

* * *

They spend the remainder of the day with the new recruits. The innkeeper had been generous enough to offer up his space to use for their meeting. Cullen spoke with the men, assessing their experience while easing their fears and discussing their duties. He had found in his time leading troops that most new recruits' fear stemmed from the unknown. Once protocol and rules were set for them, the transition was always much smoother. The presence of the Inquisitor herself seemed to bolster the men's enthusiasm. He left them packing instructions and a timeline. Horses would be sent for those who had no means to travel to Skyhold on their own.

With the business of the new recruits wrapped up, he left them, still chatting at the inn. Last he saw Ellana, she was sitting in the shade of a tall oak behind the stables, getting to know some of the families of the recruits. When Cullen went to meet her, she was just saying her goodbyes.

She saw him and gave a little wave before they made their way toward the stables together.

"The people here are so open. It's a little bit of a culture shock," she laughed, grabbing his hand nonchalantly, as though they had been walking this way for years.

Cullen nodded. "I definitely miss that part of living here. No secrets. No games."

They entered the stables and found their horses. "Did you bring parchment and a quill? I told Mrs. Roderick I'd take their names, in case we ever have need of supplies down here. She was eager to lend help where she can. I want to write them down before I forget."

"Right here." Cullen gestured to the side pack on his horse and Ellana rifled around for a second or two. He finished stowing away the recruits' information and turned back to ask her if she'd found it. When he saw what she'd found instead of the writing supplies, his stomach sank.

His vials of lyrium - one empty and two still full.

She shook her head, eyebrows creased. "You… you lied to me?" The hurt in her voice wounded him more than any headache, any nausea, any pain he'd suffered from withdrawal.

He couldn't look at her. "Ellana… I…"

Cullen fumbled for the right words, but there were none. He'd just sung the praises of Ferelden honesty and here he was, hiding a secret like this from someone he cared about.

"I'm sorry," he said.

She put the lyrium back in his pack, grabbed the parchment and quill, and led her horse out of the stable without a word.


	8. Cleave

**Chapter 8**

_Ellana_

The ride back to Skyhold was… tense. They spoke only of the Inquisition and briefly about passing landmarks. No more was said about Cullen or his lyrium.

But Ellana had not forgotten. She stole a sideways glance at him. He'd always been so honest with her about everything before this. He'd been tender and up front with his feelings. But last night he had looked her in the eye and lied. He said he was doing better. Why not just confide in her?

Her mother had warned her about the human tendency to fabricate truths. At the time she thought this counsel was nothing but a mother's trick to keep her away from any humans they contacted in their travels. But maybe there was something to her warnings after all. Honesty is one of her clan's most revered values. To lie is an insult to oneself as well as everyone close to the lie. Didn't Cullen think he could trust her? What was this whole trip about if not to get close to each other?

Ellana sighed, shifting in her saddle. It was going to be a long ride home.

* * *

To make the day worse, when they finally arrived at Skyhold near midnight, Lelliana and Josephine were waiting up for them. There was great concern of an immediate threat where they had seen signs of Corypheus' activity. Adamant Fortress, at the edge of the Abyssal Rift in the Western Approach, was being used by Erimond to raise an army of demons. The Inquisition must lay siege to the fortress in an attempt to clear the demon threat and remove Erimond and the Grey Warden involvement if possible. But it would not be easy.

Weeks spent in preparation meant no time to speak with Cullen about anything personal. The awkward silences had resolved at least, as they needed to discuss matters every day regarding troops and strategy. Still, she wished for an opportunity to speak to him about Honnleath, but their moment never came. She was consumed by her duty to the Inquisition and so they marched to Fort Adamant, leaving the lyrium issue completely unresolved.

* * *

The battle was intense. The trebuchets had done their intended jobs, weakening the defenses on the battlements, and the battering rams had allowed them entrance. It had become clear that Adamant was completely overrun by demons. They swarmed the tops of the battlements as the Inquisition's forces tried to climb ladders to gain access. As soon as the doors were destroyed, she rushed forward. Cullen was just behind her, ready to give his report on the strategy.

"Alright, Inquisitor. You have your way in. Best make use of it."

She should be more concerned with not dying than why he was back to calling her Inquisitor. But he sounded so formal. She wondered now if too much time had passed to mend things between them. She didn't have a chance to consider it further, as the screams of the dying quickly brought her back to what was important.

"We'll keep the main host of demons occupied for as long as we can," he continued.

"I'll be fine. Just keep the men safe."

He nearly had to yell to be heard over the projectiles crushing stone behind them. "We'll do what we have to, Inquisitor. Warden Stroud will guard your back. Hawke is with our soldiers on the battlements. She's assisting them until you arrive."

A panicked scream tore through the air just feet from where they stood. They both looked up to see a body fall from the top of the battlements. A demon, eyes like voids and fingers like spider's legs screeched a challenge down at them.

Cullen shook his head, his voice edgier. "There's too much resistance on the walls. Our men on the ladders can't get a foothold. If you can clear out the enemies on the battlements, we'll cover your advance."

With that, he was back giving orders to his troops behind them, sending archers to higher ground and helping direct the soldiers just coming through the doors. She whirled around, spotting Cassandra, who was engaged with a crazed Grey Warden. A well placed sword to the abdomen sent him crumpling to the ground.

Ellana had to yell to be heard over the constant roar of battle going on all around them. "We need to head up to the battlements to clear them for the men on the ladders."

Cassandra led the way, while the rest of the party fell into formation behind her. Ellana had fought with Cassandra, Dorian, and Varric so many times, it was almost second nature. But having Hawke and Stroud with them could make the difference with the sheer amount of enemies they would face. When an enemy appeared, Cassandra knew just what to say to throw the enemies rage her way. As Cassandra dodged incoming blows, the other three would try to deliver the killing blow at range. It was the safest, most efficient combat strategy they'd devised. The addition of Stroud's sword and Hawke's force magic seemed to fit right into their scheme. So they stuck with it.

As they made their way to higher ground, wave after wave of demons came upon them. It was as though the more they killed, the more poured out onto the battlements. It seemed endless.

Then, Ellana heard it. A low rumbling roar. She knew that sound.

"Pride demon!" she screamed, pointing to the north side of the battlement.

"I see it!" Cassandra raised her shield, covering herself to quickly drink an elfroot infusion. She'd need all the energy she could get to block blows from a creature nearly ten times her size.

Ellana followed as Cassandra charged the enormous demon. It was easy to become panicked by something of its sheer size. Its clawed hands alone seemed larger than Ellana herself from this angle. But she managed to find some semblance of inner focus, calling on the energy within herself to create a protective barrier around the four of them. As she wove the barrier, it shimmered to life, iridescent and as fragile-looking as glass. But Ellana knew that it was not as delicate as it appeared.

When the pride demon saw Cassandra, it spun violently, crashing its balled fist into where she'd been standing, but she strafed just in time to dodge the blow.

The demon let out a thunderous snarl, sending bolts of electricity into the air all around Cassandra. Most of the initial barrage was absorbed by the barrier and Cassandra was free to plunge her blade into the demon's leg. Crossbow bolts whizzed past her ear, as Varric found his rhythm behind her. She also recognized the blasts of ice from Dorian's staff. Ellana backed away, remembering from hard won experience that the reach of a pride demon's attack was farther than it seemed.

The magic was surging at her fingertips now, begging for release with her heightened adrenaline. She bowed to its demand, allowing the burning heat of fire to pour from her veins. She sent the blast in one huge fireball that struck its mark, square in the monster's chest. It roared again with the impact, the fire exploding on contact, setting its skin ablaze.

It raged then, taking out its fury on the closest target. When it raised both hands over its head, Ellana screamed, "Move!"

Cassandra heard her warning and sprinted between the demon's massive trunk-like legs. It worked. The creature's vicious blow caused the entire battlement to shake, but Cassandra was already slashing at its back.

It turned slowly this time, raising its arms as it made a show of conducting its electrical charge between its palms. Then the demon laughed - a deep rumbling otherworldly laugh that sent chills through Ellana. She placed a palm to her temple, trying to shake the fear away. It was just a distraction and she could not let it succeed.

Cassandra never seemed affected by fear in the heat of battle. She moved gracefully, every slice of her sword well-placed. But it was Varric who brought the demon down this time. She saw the bolt fly at its mark and when it struck, it tore through the back of the monster's neck. It crumpled almost instantly. The bolt had likely separated brain from body. The ground shook as the sickening sound of flesh on stone filled the smoky air around them.

Varric came from behind, slapping a hand on her shoulder. "That was a shot for the books, eh?"

Ellana smiled, "I'm sure you'll manage to embellish a few stories about it."

Cassandra never took part in their joking until the battle was won. "Come on. We must find Erimond."

Another few pride demons and scores of other fade creatures stood between them and the center of the fortress where Erimond and the Grey Wardens were gathered. When they finally broke through, Ellana found that they were too late to stop the blood sacrifice. Erimond had convinced Warden Commander Clarel to continue with the ritual. Clarel was unable to accept that they were all being bound in service to Corypheus.

Erimond stood over the Wardens, glaring down at Ellana as he pounded his staff into the stone and screamed, "My master thought you might come here, Inquisitor! He sent me this to welcome you!"

From behind them, the great roar of a dragon carried across the walls of the castle and she turned. It was immense. When it flapped its huge tattered wings, the air below was disturbed into clouds of dust. The Wardens crouched instinctively, knowing full well that this was no ordinary dragon. It circled once more before it perched on a tower, causing the stone around it to crumble. Screams rang out over the entire fortress as the dragon roared once more in a show of raw power.

Clarel backed up. Her eyes were wide with disbelief and Ellana saw that she was starting to understand.

As all eyes were focused on the dragon, Clarel made her move. She struck Erimond with a lightning attack, sending him to the floor. He begged her to wait, but she had made up her mind. She sent another lightning bolt, this time directly at the dragon itself.

"Kill them all!" Clarel screamed as the dragon launched itself at her, trails of red hot fire just at her heels as she ran.

Then Ellana saw what she meant. Demons had materialized everywhere. Her group cut through them, slowly making their way to where she'd last seen Erimond and Clarel. They were heading up to the highest platform of the keep. Corypheus' dragon nearly fried their entire party several times before they finally reached Clarel.

She had just dealt Erimond a brutal blow and he lay in a smoking heap at her feet.

"I will  _never_  serve the blight," Clarel said, her lip curled in disgust.

As she turned away from Erimond, Corypheus' monstrous dragon seemed to fall from the sky, planting its feet squarely on either side of Clarel. It leaned down in one graceful stooping motion to take Clarel in its mouth, whole. It carried her to a nearby roof, shaking her limp body savagely as though she were nothing but a Mabari chew toy.

Ellana felt bile rise up in her throat. She managed to swallow it down, backing away from the creature as it flung Clarel onto the stone walkway just before them.

The dragon looked up at them next. Its dark eyes fiercely focused on its next enemy.

Her.

She backed away tentatively. Ellana could feel the musky warm breath of the creature as it panted its way forward, arching its back as a predator would before making a kill.

Just as the dragon launched itself toward her, Clarel sent one last magical attack straight into the beast's abdomen from below. It crashed to the ground, scraping against the stone walk, sending chunks of rock flying in its wake until momentum carried it to the very edge of the tower. It clung to the tip of the remaining outcropping, trying to claw its way back up, but the old stone was brittle with age. The entire far side of the fortress began to crumble and the dragon fell from the tower with it.

Ellana lost her balance as the entire fortress seemed to shake below her. Then she saw it. Even with the dragon gone, the stone was continuing to collapse. She backed up, an awkward reverse crabwalk until she could see that the entire side of the castle might go down. She stood up, trying to run, but saw that Stroud had lost his footing and was clinging to the edge of the collapse. She turned back to help, reaching for his hand to give him the leverage he needed to continue running.

The sickening roar of falling rock was everywhere. Ellana looked down at her feet and saw the very ground below her cracking. Her stomach lurched as she plunged several feet with the stone. She made one final move to try to get as close to the others as possible. They would all die, unless she could stop their fall.

No spells she'd learned from Keeper would help now.

She tuned herself to the pulse of the mark on her wrist, shutting out the gut-wrenching cries of her friends, and unleashed the force required to tear open the fade, creating a rift below them. The six of them fell into it, still screaming.


	9. Alive

**Chapter 9**

_Cullen_

Cullen could only watch in horror from afar as the entire upper platform around Adamant Fortress collapsed, sending everyone on it falling to their sure deaths.

_Oh Maker, no!_

The sheer weight of the scene unfolding in front of him forced Cullen to his knees. The battle inside the fortress was nearly won. In fact, some of the troops were already gathering the bodies of the fallen. Why then? Why now?

Why hadn't he been there?

A heavy blanket of guilt fell over his thoughts, nearly crushing him under its weight as he recalled his last words to her. Something about clearing enemies off the battlements and covering their advance. He should have taken the time to kiss her or say he cared about her. Better yet, he should have talked to her at Skyhold when he had the chance. He'd been so consumed with the threat here and so convinced there was nothing he could say to make it better between them, he'd just left it alone.

He sighed, holding his head in his hands. A slow churning heat from his stomach made its way up through his body - a burning warmth of emotion that welled up behind his eyes. His breaths came unevenly as he set his jaw and clenched his fists. He swallowed, trying to unwind the tight ball of anger in his throat.

He had to pull himself together. His troops needed him.

But the tears burned his eyes until finally, they spilled over. Hot salty rivulets streamed down his cheeks. His body racked with sobs and he heard nothing. Felt nothing around him, until…

"Commander."

He pinched the bridge of his nose and pulled his head up from between his knees.

"Commander!" The voice was more insistent now. And yes, that had been someone shaking him by the shoulder.

"What is it," he managed, his voice not much more than a rasping squawk.

"There is word of the Inquisitor, sir."

Cullen straightened at that, looking up at the man from his knees. It was one of the new Honnleath recruits. "Tell me quickly, Ellis. As you can see, I'm in no state for-"

"She may be alive, Commander," he interrupted.

Cullen felt some strength come back, enabling him to stand again. "How do you know? What about the others? Dorian? Cass-"

"We think they all made it. Some of the men saw the Inquisitor fall. She…" his forehead creased. "She opened a tear in the Fade and they all fell in."

Cullen rubbed his forehead. "She... she did what?"

"Just as I said, Commander. She opened a rift to keep from hitting the ground. They all just… fell into it. They must still be in the Fade somehow."

Cullen shook his head. "Impossible."

But relief washed over him. The tightness in his chest began to diminish and he began to breathe easier. If she was in the Fade, there was a chance she would return. Especially with two accomplished mages at her side. Hawke and Dorian would help guide her through the fade. She would have to make it.

Cullen had to have faith.

Ellis went back to his duties, to help with the aftermath of the battle. Cullen would do the same, but first he knelt to say a prayer.

* * *

By the time Cullen had word of the Inquisitor's return from the Fade, he had already left Adamant and was returning to Skyhold. It was several days before he could speak with Ellana. Lelliana had insisted on debriefing her, so he had to wait until she was finished with several meetings first. But when he saw her, she was well worth the wait.

He didn't realize that a part of himself still doubted she survived, until he saw her. He'd watched her die, at least from his vantage point. So to see her strutting across the courtyard, a little bounce in her step, he felt like he'd been given a gift. A gift of a second chance that he would not squander.

"Ellana," he called.

He worried about how she would react, but a small smile graced her lips and she quickened her pace to meet him. He wanted to meet her in an embrace, show her how much he regretted how he'd acted, but he had to find out where they stood first. He settled for gently placing his hand on her upper arm.

"It's so good to see you," Ellana said gently. Her eyes were bloodshot, heavy bags beneath them revealed just how much she'd experienced in the Fade."We need to talk."

He nodded. "I was just coming to ask you the same."

"How about the garden? I need to check on my seeds anyway. I hope they've been tending to them. The lotus needs a lot of water and-"

Cullen couldn't help but laugh.

She gave him an accusatory glare. "What?"

"You nearly died, opened a rift in the Fade, fell through it, and then somehow managed to escape and you want to talk about flowers?" Cullen shook his head, still smiling. "You never stop surprising me."

Ellana began walking toward the garden, acknowledging everyone she passed with a friendly nod. No wonder she had so many followers, she made them all feel important and needed. That and there was no arguing with her ability to defy death. He silently thanked the Maker again for that.

"So what  _did_  happen in the Fade? If you haven't tired of telling the tale, that is."

Ellana looked up at the billowing white clouds above. "It was incredible and frightening." When she looked at him, Cullen saw that the impact of what she'd experienced was still very close to the surface. "It was as though the Fade knew our deepest fears. When we were almost through it, the nightmare we had to face was…" She faltered, likely thinking of Stroud. Cullen had learned of Stroud's sacrifice in the Fade to help the others. "It was immense, there was no way to bring it down. We had to… Stroud sacrificed himself to-"

But she couldn't finish. Maybe she'd told the story before, but it was still too fresh. The nightmare still too vivid.

"I'm so sorry," was all he could manage. He placed a hand on her back in comfort as they continued to the garden. "I'm just glad you made it back."

Ellana reached into her pocket, smiling down at the coin he'd given her back in Honnleath. "I did have luck on my side."

Cullen chuckled.

"Although, the Divine's help probably didn't hurt."

Cullen stopped, his mouth agape as he whispered, "The divine? You saw Divine Justinia?"

Ellana nodded and looked up at the pillars surrounding the garden. "I think it was her spirit somehow. But she helped us through. She helped me discover my memories of what happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes."

Cullen blinked. "That's… incredible."

Ellana started toward a few pots at the far side of the garden. "That's the only way I could describe it too. Luckily Hawke wrote a very detailed report of the whole experience."

"I should like to read it."

She crouched down in front of one of her pots, gently examining the tiny sprouts that were just pushing their way through the topsoil. "Good, I was worried these seeds wouldn't take."

Cullen bent down to admire another pot spilling over with fragrant white flowers. "They look very happy."

As Ellana moved on to check the next pot, he took a deep breath, feeling the moment was right to tell her what he should have weeks ago. "Ellana," he stood up and took her hand. She didn't pull away. That was a good start. "I want to apologize to you for hiding the truth about… about the lyrium."

She pressed her lips together. "Cullen, I-"

He pleaded silently with his eyes. "Please. I want you to know why."

She nodded and he continued. "After you left for the Western Front, days went by and my physical health deteriorated. It was to the point where I was vomiting several times every day. I couldn't focus. I had to make some crucial decisions during that week, many of which I misjudged. Good men died for my mistakes." Cullen shut his eyes, still haunted by what could have been. "I shouldn't have been so weak, but I felt I had run out of options."

Ellana's shoulders slumped and she exhaled. Her response was just above a whisper. "Cullen. I understand all of that. I just want to know why you didn't tell me, even when I asked?"

He looked away. "I couldn't bear to disappoint you. I planned on telling you. Just…" he looked back at her, even though it killed him to see the hurt he had put there. "It just kept getting harder and harder to tell you." He looked away again, it was painful to hold her gaze for too long.

But she reached out to place her hand against the line of his jaw, turning him to face her. "Cullen, I forgive you." And he could see that something had changed in her eyes. A small smile crept to the corner of one of her lips. "You should see your face," she laughed. "You'd think having this conversation was _your_  personal Fade nightmare."

He exhaled, a deep sigh of relief that she… that  _they_ were in good standing again.

"May I?" Cullen asked, placing a hand on her arm.

She answered by leaning further toward him. Her lips grazed against his, very light at first, filled with trepidation. But when he began to pull back, she pulled him towards her again. When the kiss was over, Cullen had no questions about where they stood.

"I can't believe I almost lost you without-" he rubbed his eyes, trying to clear out the image of her death. "Let's not ever leave without a proper goodbye."

"I agree, I should have talked to you sooner, I-"

Cullen set his jaw. "No, it wasn't up to you to make things right. And it shouldn't have taken nearly losing you to make me see that. I promise you, I will not hide something like that from you again."

Ellana adjusted the small bag she carried over her shoulder, opening the flap to retrieve a small weathered envelope. She grabbed for his hand, spilling the contents of the envelope into his open palm. Seeds.

"Help me plant my newest find?"

Cullen smiled. "I could not think of a better way to spend the morning."


	10. Love

**Chapter 10**

_Ellana_

It was late. She probably shouldn’t be going to see Cullen at this hour, but she hadn’t talked to him since yesterday in the garden. Ellana had so much to wrap up after the battle at Adamant, she’d scarcely had time to eat and sleep. She’d only seen him in passing, leaving her craving his company.

As she approached the door to his office, she heard him talking within. She slipped inside quietly, standing against the wall to watch. He was so confident with his troops - comfortable in his leadership.

“Rylen’s men will monitor the situation.” He nodded at one of the troops.

“Yes, ser. We’ll begin preparations at once.”

Cullen grabbed a report that was handed to him. “In the meantime we’ll send soldiers to…” his eloquent flow of commands came to an awkward halt when he saw Ellana at the back of the room, “assist with the relief effort.”

Ellana showed a hint of a smile, partially hiding it behind her hand.

“That will be all.” At least he seemed eager to see her too.

“Ser!” The last solider acknowledged his order before leaving the room and Cullen closed the door behind them.

He leaned against it heavily, his voice drained. “There’s always something more, isn’t there?”

“Wishing we were somewhere else?” She certainly did. What she wouldn’t give for another chance at Honnleath. And this time she would do it right.

He snickered. “I barely found time to get away before.” His thoughts must have mirrored hers.

Cullen turned to his desk, pacing the center of the office. “This war won’t last forever. When it started, I hadn’t considered much beyond our own survival.” He faced her as he continued. “But things are different now.”

She joined him near the desk, curious about this talk about the future. He’d never spoken of such things. “What do you mean?”

He was staring into the candlelight, his eyes deeper brown in the low light. She couldn’t help but admire the strong line of his jaw, the shadow of a day without shaving, and the scar on his lip. Everything about him made her stomach tighten. She just wanted to be close to this man.

“I find myself wondering what will happen after. When this is over I – I won’t want to move on.” He reached out a gloved hand in a tender caress of her cheek. “Not from you.” His brows creased and his eyes were thoughtful before he pulled away, as if suddenly embarrassed by his own show of emotion. “But I don’t know what you – that is, if you, uh…” He shuffled some papers around on his desk.

Was he actually worried that she thought this was just a fling?

She stepped between him and the desk, taking his wrist and looking into his eyes. “Cullen. Do you need to ask?”

She shimmied onto the desk and he replied quietly. “I suppose not. I want – I-“

Ellana gasped at the sound of shattering glass exploding behind her. In her carelessness, she’d toppled a glass that had been precariously perched on the edge of his desk.

When she looked back at him, he gave the most wonderful devious smile before sweeping the entire surface of the desk clean with one move of his arm, sending bottles and paperwork flying. Glass smashed on the floor again, as he guided her to lie back. This was a confidence he had never shown with her. This was Cullen taking control, and she was pleasantly surprised.

She cradled his face as his lips found hers. It started sweetly, like many of their kisses were, but soon changed to something unfamiliar. The weight of his body against her, the demand of his lips, and the strength of his hand as it held her hip. He pressed his lips firmly against hers, exploring her with a new eagerness and she suddenly recognized the difference in him. He  _wanted_ her.

The thought sent her heart beating faster. Cullen’s gloved hands reached for her face again, but suddenly he growled with frustration. He raised himself to his knees and unbuckled his outer gauntlets, then slipped off the leather gloves easily.

He leaned down again, bracing himself with one elbow while he explored her with his free hand. He started by stroking her cheek, his eyes intense, then he bent to kiss her again. His hand went to her hip, running along her sides, fueling her need for him with every touch.

He spoke into her ear, his voice husky with desire. “I have wanted this for so long.” His breath sent a shiver through her core.

“Then what were you waiting for?”  She couldn’t help but tease him. “You had me all liquored up and ready at that inn in Honnleath. I laid in the dark wishing for you to come to me that night.”

“It wasn’t quite right, then,” he said, running a hand through her hair. “This, now… this is right.”

Ellana knew it was true. They had an understanding now. They’d overcome a personal obstacle, the first of many, and it had left them stronger and closer than before.

She pulled him down to her, lightly biting his lower lip, trying desperately to find some part of him to hold onto. Her fingers searched through the layers of fabric and armor, trying to find a latch or a buckle. Something.

He chuckled into her ear as he guided her fingers to the leather straps securing his chest plate. Once the strap was free, he reached for a clasp behind his neck and pulled the whole piece over his head. Much to her disappointment, there was still a layer of leathers keeping her hands from him.

Her displeasure must have been all over her face as Cullen laughed again, leaning down to whisper. “Would you like to lie in my bed tonight, my lady?”

She didn’t trust her voice, so she nodded. She supposed the bed might be better, the last thing they needed was for someone to come in and get an eyeful. That and the wood wasn’t exactly cradling her backside.

Cullen took her hand, guiding her up the ladder to the loft above his office.

Ellana slid off her boots as Cullen worked at the rest of his outer armor. Grieves, boots - there were so many pieces. She wondered how he could stand to wear full armor day after day.

But she didn’t have much time to speculate. Cullen walked to the end of the bed, sighing audibly as he gazed upon her from head to toe. He had a way of making her feel beautiful, just by the way he looked at her.

He climbed onto the bed, pulling off the last layer of undershirt to reveal his muscular shoulders. Years of swinging a sword had certainly helped with that.

She breathed him in as he nestled himself at her side – the leather and spices and something new. Then he was kissing her again, greedily now, not holding anything back. Just his raw desire and it was incredible. He ran his hand over her body again and again, memorizing her figure, gaining courage as he went for the top clasp at the neck of her tunic.He made his way down, until he'd freed enough of her to run his hand along the bare skin of her chest, circling around to cup her breast.

Ellana gasped, a small sound of pleasure at the touch, which only served to fuel Cullen’s own need. He rolled over onto her, pressing his mouth to hers before working his way down her neck, leaving a hot trail of fire in his wake. She could feel him now, underneath his leather breaches. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.

 He freed the rest of the clasps on her tunic and she managed to shrug it off completely. He pulled back briefly to drink in the sight of her before returning to his torturous mission of making every inch of her body crave his touch.

Cullen kissed her neck again, tasting her slowly. He cupped her breast in one hand as he kissed a trail to her nipple. Teasing and flicking with his tongue until she found herself arching her hips against him involuntarily. This sent Cullen over the edge as he hastily pulled off his breaches and helped her out of hers. They both made quick work of their smallclothes before tangling themselves in each other’s arms again.

Cullen found her lips again in a deep, slow and stirring kiss that ignited the fire in her core. He pressed himself against her heat, moaning in her ear as he ran his hands along her sides, stopping to knead each of her breasts on the way down. She raised her hips against him wanting more and more of him near her, pressing closer until he rolled off of her onto his side.

His breath was ragged in her ear as he spread her legs with his hand and gently teased, massaging his way toward her heat. When he parted her wet folds with his fingers, she moaned. She grabbed the hard muscles of his arms, guiding his hand to the center of her need. She ached for him, rocking with his touch, her breath quickening as she came dangerously close to losing control.

She wanted to touch him then, but he was already back on top of her. It was clear, again, who was the Commander tonight.

He pressed himself close to her core as her body screamed for release. He breathed her name as he found her entrance, slowly and gently filling her. She gripped his shoulders, silently begging for more. Cullen pulled out and entered again, this time unfaltering and a sigh escaped her lips.

“ _Ma vhenan.”_

 He found his rhythm and Ellana raised her hips to meet him with each thrust. The ache inside her had become unbearable. She begged him by name and soon, she was completely focused on the need in her core. She felt nothing but Cullen at that moment, the last thrust sending her over the edge. She couldn’t tell where she ended and he began. She tipped her head back, a small cry escaping her lips. As she sensed the world spinning around her, she felt Cullen’s grip on her waist tighten. He held his breath, trembling as he found his release inside of her.

After a moment, he relaxed catching his breath. She felt his heartbeat as it slowly returned to normal, the comforting weight of his body still on top of her. She breathed him in again. Yes there was something new to him now. Magic. It was leather and spices and magic.

 It was  _them_.


	11. Believe

**Chapter 11**

_Cullen_

He listened to her breathing become slow and smooth, deepening into a peaceful sleep. It felt so natural, so much like she fit there curled up against his chest with his arm around her. But Cullen didn't want to fall asleep. If he did the dreams would come. Gnashing teeth of demons, taunting visions of painful possibility, slashing and dark and bottomless – these dreams did not belong here. Not with her.

But the dreams would come anyway. He knew because he'd skipped another dose of lyrium today. Since Adamant, he'd been starting the process of weaning himself from it. Already, even after just a few days without it, the craving was there, growing and feeding on his resolve.

The only difference now was that  _she_ was there too. And that made all the difference.

Cullen opened his eyes, gazing at the stars through the gaping holes in the roof. Ellana had laughed when she saw it for the first time.

_"The Commander of the Inquisition and you can't pay someone to fix the roof?"_

_He'd given her a smug look in response. "It serves a purpose."_

_"Such as?" She reflected his half-smile._

_"You'd be surprised how much easier it is to sleep under a blanket of stars."_

_She considered that for a moment, looking up at the ceiling. "That doesn't surprise me at all – I've spent my fair share of time gazing at the heavens." She locked her eyes on his. "What does surprise me is that I may have misjudged you."_

_He cocked his head and shifted his feet, trying desperately not to look as flustered as he felt. "How so?"_

_"I figured all of you Templar types were overbearing zealots who'd never taken the time to watch a sunset or smell a rose."_

_"I happen to love sunsets," he'd protested in mock-offense._

_"And roses?" She said, taking a step toward him._

_He was sure then that she was flirting with him. They'd had playful conversations and Cullen had been pretty sure she was interested, but now she was close. In his office with the door closed. And oh Maker why was she so attractive?_

_"Of course – well… I mean yes," he stammered. "Who doesn't love roses?"_

_She stifled a giggle before agreeing. "Who doesn't?"_

That day seemed ages ago, but he still felt like the same bumbling halfwit when she flirted with him. He knew tonight, that he'd been able to show her what words alone could not. And for that he was thankful.

* * *

The rage demon's fiery fingers played across her body, burning through layers of clothing and leaving only bits of charred rags behind them. It laughed, a cruel hollow sound that tore at him. But he couldn't get to her. She was beyond his reach. He was raw from trying to twist away, trying to escape from the chains that immobilized him, even though he knew it was a futile effort.

Soon more demons came, as if attracted by the wicked laughter and smell of scorched flesh. There were too many and she was far too weak to fight. Cullen watched as each creature snatched a piece of her. Tearing her skin, ripping her to shreds as he fought violently to help her.

But she was gone and they were still hungry.

"No… leave me," he called to them. But still they came, fingers outstretched and eyes starving for his flesh. "Leave me!" he screamed.

He jumped back from the demons, jolting himself awake. His heart was hammering in his chest and his breaths came in gasps. He looked around the room, leaning back onto his pillow. Of course… just another dream.

Ellana was there, already dressed, sitting on the side of the bed lacing her boots. He thought of the demon ripping her away from him. How cruel that the dreams seemed to discover new ways to cause him suffering every night.

"Bad dream?" she asked.

"They always are. Without lyrium they're worse." He hated for her to see him like this. The burden of the Inquisition was enough on her shoulders without his problems piled on.

He pushed himself onto his elbow. "I didn't mean to worry you." He wanted to hold her again, to lay with her all day, kissing and whispering. But that possibility was a long way off with so much work to be done. He settled for a tender touch to her cheek.

"You can let me worry about you a little." She let her fingers trail sweetly along the side of his face.

He chuckled. "Alright."

She touched her forehead to his. He breathed her in again and now her scent was all tangled with memories of last night. The way she had touched him, kissed him - the way she had felt beneath him. She was strong but somehow yielding, unbreakable yet fragile, perfect and flawed and Cullen knew his heart belonged to her.

He closed his eyes, trying to put his thoughts into words. "You are… I have never felt anything like this."

She leaned down, eyes gleaming in the morning light that shone through the broken slats in the roof. "I love you. You now that right?"

"I love you, too."

And he did. All of the worry for her. All of the fear of disappointment. The desire to be near her, to learn more about her. The way she made his pain more endurable, just by being near. All of these thoughts he had trouble expressing and she did it in three words. I love you.

Their lips met briefly. A promise.

She smiled one last time before descending the ladder to his office. Cullen lay back on the bed with a contented sigh, allowing himself a few moments to think about their night together before rising to dress and begin the days' duties.

The morning passed quickly with so much business to attend to. He'd needed to make a sweep through the barracks, supervise the late morning training at the yard, and attend a meeting with Lelliana just before midday. He was about halfway up the stairs, ready to take lunch in his office as he went over reports, when Dorian called to him from the courtyard.

"Cullen, a word?"

He backtracked, meeting the mage at the foot of the stairwell. "Of course. Is everything alright?"

"I should be asking you." The dark-haired man looked him up and down.

Cullen closed his eyes briefly. He supposed this conversation was coming sooner or later. "My office?" he asked, gesturing with a nod to the tower behind him.

Dorian's expected quip was mostly lost in the howl of the wind as the two of them climbed the steps to Cullen's office. As they entered, Dorian sauntered to the desk and plopped into the chair behind it with a pompous backward roll of his shoulders. He puffed out his chest and pretended to look overly important while thumbing through reports.

Cullen shook his head and snickered. "You look like a child playing at his father's business."

Dorian snorted then leaned back into the chair, hands clasped behind his head. "Have you thought about our last exchange?"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he answered. "Every day since we last talked."

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"I'm not happy about it. I do not know this mage, Corvus, nor can I comment on his intentions." He stood facing Dorian, gripping the edges of the desk. "Yet… I cannot stand feeling this way – the haze, the aches, the dreams…" A shiver crept through him as he tried to block out the memory of last night's demons. "But with all of the side effects, I hate being controlled by it even more."

"When was your last dose?"

"Three days ago."

Dorian picked up a quill on the desk, fingering it between two fingers. "You may have to take it once more before we meet Javan. I'm not sure I feel like travelling all the way to Tevinter with a crazed maniac in the throes of withdrawal. Let alone showing up to House Corvus with one in tow."

Cullen straightened. "I didn't even tell you if I wanted your contact's help in this, yet."

Dorian narrowed his eyes. "You mean to tell me, you'd prefer risking death or a lifetime of dementia to taking a simple trip to meet an old friend of mine?"

He would much prefer death to a lifetime of dementia, but would he rather risk either than meet a Tevinter mage? Dorian seemed to trust Javan's intentions and Cullen had been given no reason to think differently.

He didn't answer right away, instead pacing the room before finally placing his palms against the wall, releasing the breath he'd been inadvertently holding. "I'd really prefer to find a way out of this - both alive and with my wits."

"Then I don't see what the debate is about." Dorian dipped the quill into the inkwell and began scrawling a note onto a blank parchment on the desk. When he spoke again, he was quieter. "You know she would want this for you. She  _asked_  me to do this for you."

Cullen lowered his head. He hated that Dorian could hang her over him, but that didn't change the fact that he was right. His pride should not come above her, not anymore.

Dorian sensed the serious turn in the conversation, trying to repair it with distracting conversation as usual. "You know people were already talking this morning about your rigorous activities in-"

"I don't want to hear about it," Cullen interrupted, shaking his head, trying to ignore the heat coming to his cheeks.

"Very well, just thought you'd want to know," he smirked as he turning his attention back to the letter. Then he finished under his breath, "I'll wager you are gaining quite the reputation as we speak, Commander."

Cullen tried to ignore the fact that everyone in Skyhold now knew about his bedroom activities. He leaned against the wall, trying to move his thoughts toward this new venture with Dorian. He tried to estimate how long it would take just the two of them to travel to Tevinter and back. He wanted to keep this whole thing as private as possible and a larger party would only slow them down.

"I'll send this letter ahead of us to give House Corvus polite notice of our arrival."

Cullen nodded. "Good. I need a few days to get some things done here anyway."

Dorian waggled his eyebrows. "I should think so."

Cullen exhaled loudly. "Maker help me."


	12. Involve

**Chapter 12**

_Ellana_

As much as she hated to admit it, she knew he was right to be concerned. It seemed like every time she set foot in an unfamiliar part of Thedas, people were trying to kill her.

"I wish you wouldn't rush off so quickly." Cullen looked positively miserable. "At least let me send some troops ahead. We could clear the-"

"Cullen, you know we are far more effective with the element of surprise in these types of situations." Ellana used to call him Commander around the war table, but after last night she couldn't pretend it was all business between them.

Ellana leaned against the table's edge, tracing her fingers across the script on the map.

Emerald Graves. Just another stepping stone to Corypheus, but one that needed to be handled well and handled soon. Rebels were getting out of hand and they needed to find out what they were after and why they would only talk to her.

Lelliana crossed her arms. "The Inquisitor is right. This must be done with discretion and Fairbanks specifically wants to talk with her. Scout Harding will give her all of the necessary intelligence. She will be well prepared to investigate."

"I agree." Josephine scribbled something before she looked up at Cullen. "This is a time when more men do not make our odds better."

"I'll leave tomorrow at first light."

Lelliana nodded. "I'll send word ahead to Harding."

Josephine briefly placed a hand on her shoulder. "Good luck, Inquisitor. Let me know if there's anything you should need before you leave."

The two women left the room together, Lelliana giving her a knowing look before closing the door to the war room behind her.

Cullen turned from the table, looking out the tall faceted windows. The clouds were orange and pink, reflecting the sunset into the room. "This is only getting harder, you know."

She joined him by the window, letting the last light of the day wash over her too. "I know."

He looked down at her. The glow of the setting sun illuminated his dark under eye circles. She took his hands, feeling the tremor in them even through his leather gloves. Once she really looked for it on his face, she could see the true depth of it. He'd gotten so good at hiding it over the last few months she hardly noticed. But there it was - his jaw was clenched and beads of sweat collected above his brows. He was in pain.

She didn't want to upset him by broaching the subject again, but she was concerned. "Are you feeling alright? I mean – is there anything I can do?"

"This morning I agreed to let you worry about me a little. But I think you've worried enough for today, love." The way the word rolled off his tongue so easily made her thoughts turn quickly back to last night. Could they spend another night together before she had to leave him? She desperately wanted to, but thought about all of the preparations she needed to make. She needed more hours in the day.

"Then give me a reason not to worry."

"Very well." He took her hand and interlaced his fingers with hers. "Dorian told me that you asked him to find a way to help me. Well… he did. He found someone."

Ellana's eyes widened. "He did? So soon? Who?"

Cullen couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. "A Tevinter mage named Javan Corvus. He seems to know something that would be soothing for my condition."

"Did he say what it was? A spell? Medicine of some sort?"

He shook his head, pressing his lips in a hard line. "It seemed as though he didn't want to share too much, not trusting the confidentiality of his written correspondence."

She sensed the suspicion in his voice.

"What do you think he wants?"

He shrugged. "Powerful friends in the Inquisition? Coin? Or maybe it has nothing to do with the Inquisition and he wants to get Dorian there for some reason." Cullen let her hands go before walking back to the war table. "I've been over this again and again in my head and I am no closer to an answer."

"What does Dorian think?"

"He has no concerns." Cullen picked up a token from the table, twisting it in his fingers. "He and this Corvus seem to have some kind of past relationship. He called him an old friend, so I suppose he trusts him."

"You'll go, won't you?" Ellana wrinkled her brows, her eyes wide and earnest, imploring him to do this. She couldn't stand to watch him endure the months of suffering all over again. "I know it can't be easy to trust an unfamiliar mage, let alone one from the Imperium, but…"

"I will go," Cullen interrupted, placing the token back down.

When he turned back to her, she had already closed the space between them. Ellana embraced him, knowing the decision had been difficult. To place his trust in the hands of someone unknown to him, to leave his position for a few days to do something for himself – it was all very unlike Cullen. But Ellana knew he didn't like the person that lyrium withdrawal made him. He needed to be free of it.

She buried her face in the soft furs near the shoulder or his outer mantle. The scent of him was familiar now, but it still sent her blood rushing faster through her veins. He wrapped his arms around her, warm and strong and suddenly she almost felt like she could handle all of it - the burden of the mark, the responsibility of stopping Corypheus, the late nights, the violence and death, the unknown. If she could have this feeling again, she could withstand all of it.

She turned her head, leaning it against his chest so her words wouldn't be lost. "When will you leave?"

"Soon after you do, I suspect. Though, I assume we'll return far before you finish your mission."

She sighed into him and closed her eyes. "If things are as chaotic there as they have been elsewhere, you are probably right." She relished the last few moments of his closeness before she grudgingly pulled away. "I need to let the others know we leave tomorrow."

"Who will travel with you? You have come to rely on Dorian, but I cannot meet Corvus without him."

"Cassandra, Varric, and Cole. I've been wanting to get to know him better."

Cullen's face darkened. "You know what I feel about him."

She did. Cullen was outvoted when the others chose to let Cole stay with the Inquisition.

"He has good intentions, but gets himself into trouble despite where his heart is. I feel like I can help him."

Cullen put a hand on her arm. "You don't have to save everyone."

"Just those that I can."

A small smile unfolded across his lips and Ellana wanted him close again.

She placed a hand on his face, tracing the scar on his lip with her thumb. "You never told me what happened here," she whispered.

He leaned into her touch. "I was careless. It was after the Kirkwall Circle fell. I don't even know who did it - the streets were filled with demons unleashed during the fighting. There were looters and bandits. It was… chaos. We finally managed to restore some semblance of order, but I have this as an eternal reminder."

"It's quite charming." Ellana moved her thumb from the scar, running it along his bottom lip. He closed his eyes, basking in her attention before pulling her closer. Her body responded immediately, a current of anticipation running through her. She wanted to taste him again, feel those lips against hers. Cullen exhaled, a small groan escaping with it, echoing her thoughts.

When she couldn't wait any longer, Ellana guided his mouth to hers. She stroked the rough stubble along his jaw as she lost herself in his kiss. He was sweet and warm and she was hungry for him. She nipped greedily at his lower lip, causing him to gasp before he pressed his lips harder against hers. When it was over, they were both breathless. They stood quietly holding each other, both fully aware that his may be their last private moment together for a few weeks.

"I wish we had more time." Cullen looked down at her, the crease between his brows punctuating his displeasure at letting her go.

"Me too."

He squeezed her hand before heading to the door. "You should prepare, but I want one more kiss at dawn."

His normally brisk step was slower and his footfalls lighter as he left. He was right. This was getting much harder.


	13. Arrive

**Chapter 13**

_Cullen_

Cullen's feet crunched through the layer of frost on the grass as he made his way to the stables to see her off. It was still dark, but the dawn was staining the night sky purple as the sun crept closer to the horizon. He watched her from behind the wooden frame of the door as she finished packing her favorite chestnut. Dennet had managed to procure such a vast array of exotic mounts, yet she preferred the very first she'd brought back to Haven.

Cassandra led her mount out of the stables first, nodding as she passed.

"Good luck, Cassandra," he called.

She thanked him before leading her horse outside and stopping to secure a saddle buckle she had missed.

"Don't worry, Curly," Varric was leading his horse just behind Cassandra. "We'll take good care of her."

"I don't doubt that Varric, thank you." The dwarf slapped him on the back before continuing to gates.

"Worry floats around. Flurries of doubt. Cold and sharp. I should be there, she says. I should smooth the wrinkles between his eyes, but she rides. Fights. Leaves instead."

Cullen was sure he wasn't supposed to be hearing this – Cole's stream of consciousness style communication always left him on edge. He cleared his throat, gaining the attention of Cole first, who stood behind Ellana watching her finish preparing her pack. He still wasn't sure what Cole was – spirit or demon - and if he should be trusted, but he was certainly perceptive. He'd give him that.

Ellana's eyes found Cullen's. "I am worried, Cole. But that is a part of caring, I suppose."

Cole glanced at him from under his hat, then led the Halla he'd prepared into the brisk morning.

"I still don't like him going with you. Why not Bull? His sword would be nice to have on your side."

Cullen knew she had made up her mind, and any amount of persuasion would likely be lost on her, but he had to try. He'd never grow comfortable with Cole.

"Cole's not so bad. He likes you in fact."

Cullen raised an eyebrow.

"Really. He thinks you're safe and solid and protecting," she looked up at the loft and cocked her head in thought. "I don't remember quite how he put it, but it was actually very poetic." She took a step closer. "He said you are stronger when I hold you."

Cullen caught her hand and pulled her into him. "Well he got that right at least."

They held each other for a moment, neither wanting to speak. He looked down at her, brows knitted and eyes bloodshot. He wondered if she'd slept at all before he pressed a kiss to her lips, light and tender.

"Goodbye, Love. Be safe."

"Goodbye  _ma vhenan_. Send word from Minrathous."

He nodded, "I will."

She was gone before the sun had ever peeked over the Frostbacks.

* * *

The journey to Minrathous was long. But rather than take the Imperial Highway all the way around through Orlais and up to Tevinter, they managed to save some time by opting to hire a ship to ferry them across the Waking Sea. From there, they travelled the road north through Nevarra to Minrathous. Dorian was, as always, an excellent companion, keeping Cullen as distracted as possible from his constant battle against the lyrium and his worry for Ellana.

After a few days, the two of them approached the gates of House Corvus. It was dangerously nestled along the coast, as if it jutted out from the sea itself. The walls seemed to rise up from the jagged rocks as though the stone had split and the walls had grown from them. The architecture was so different from anything Cullen was familiar with. The structures seemed so ornately built with tall spires and arched windows. Great columns and carvings adorned the outer walls of the estate.

The estate was not owned by a magister, Dorian had explained, but Javan Corvus had always aspired for the position. He'd trained under a magister himself for a time, Livius Erimond. Cullen had nearly spat his broth and turned them back toward Skyhold when Dorian had revealed that little tidbit. He wanted nothing to do with anyone associated with the Blood Mage who'd nearly killed Ellana. However, Dorian had assured him that it had been a long time ago and that the ties he shared with Erimond were long broken. In fact, House Corvus was closer to his father than any other Magister now. Last he heard, Corvus was only biding his time until he could slip into the position himself. Corvus was a man of some station, though, and his choice of residence certainly proclaimed it loud and clear.

"If you could manage to close your mouth before we enter the gates, it would really help with your first impression." Dorian curled his lip in a lopsided smile.

"Is all of Minrathous this… opulent?"

"The city has its slums, too. There is a great undercroft below the city. The wealthy like to keep their urchins out of plain sight in Tevinter."

Cullen nodded as the great metal gates groaned their opening. Two guards stepped from behind the columns to greet them.

"Dorian Pavus?"

Dorian stepped down from his horse. "None other," he said bowing with a flourish.

Cullen followed his lead and dismounted, though he didn't' attempt to match Dorian's bow.

The guard looked to him this time. "And you must be the Templar he spoke of?"

"Yes." Cullen opted to keep things brief, not an expert in Tevinter customs, he figured it would be safer.

"Follow me, Commander Rutherford. House Corvus is expecting you."

Cullen wondered how the man knew his name, considering Dorian had assured him he'd kept his identify as vague as possible. He couldn't ask him now, though. Two more guards came to lead their horses to the stables as the others led them to Corvus.

Inside the walls, Cullen was just as impressed by the estate. The courtyard was landscaped top to bottom. A walkway of glossy stone snaked through perfectly manicured lawns that stretched to the walls on either side. Planters held colorful flowers of every hue and the whole place smelled of a mix between sweet honeysuckle and salty ocean breeze. Cullen wondered how the greenery managed to survive so well this close to the salty spray of the ocean.

As they approached the main wing of the estate ahead, he admired the ivy which crept up the walls of what he guessed was the main hall. Even the ivy was perfectly pruned, not too thick to be overgrown but mature enough to lend an air of importance about the entryway. The wide entry doors were set beneath a stunning rose window of stained glass. It was something he had only seen in a chantry, never a private residence.

As the doors swung open before them, a wave of scented air met him first, incensed with cloves and spices. Two elven servants stood at each door, faces stoic and staring past them as they had likely been trained to do. Keeping slaves to do a man's work had always felt wrong to him. Paid servants free to come and go as they please, that was different. But slaves, traded as though commondities – it was something that left Cullen deeply uncomfortable.

Dorian gave him a brief corrective glance, then set his head forward again, silently modeling the expected well-bred lack of regard for the servant class. Dorian was likely raised this way, though Cullen knew he was certainly not a man to keep slaves. He took the hint, keeping his chin up and eyes forward.

They were led through the main hall, across the length of a plush carpet of deep red, passing portraits and statuettes on display as though the room was a museum. They passed another set of doors and entered a sitting room, waiting quietly until they were announced.

"My Lord Javan Corvus, may I present Dorian Pavus and Commander Cullen Rutherford?"

Javan stood, raising himself from the chaise lounge he had been reclining on. He was a tall man, though very lean, with a head that extended a little far forward as though his neck had trouble holding it up. His hair was shiny and dark as pitch, combed to the side neatly. He was clean shaven, wearing a hooded outer robe of deep purple silk layered above lighter garments below.

"It is a pleasure to meet you Commander," he said, crossing the space in a few strides. Cullen thought he might shake his hand, but he stopped short. Maybe hand shaking was a southern custom. Then again, Cullen knew he struck quite a profile in his armor, often giving himself the benefit of a little more space with new acquaintances.

"Thank you for opening your home to us, my lord." Cullen had heard the guard use the title. Though he thought only magisters were called lords in the Imperium, he didn't want to leave off a lordship where one was due.

"Please, call me Javan," he said, turning his attention to Dorian. He sized him up head to toe before slapping him on the back. "Dorian Pavus, I hadn't thought to see you back in Tevinter so soon."

Dorian smirked, "Trust me, Javan. It is as much a surprise to me as it is to you."

"I suppose the circumstances," he paused, looking to Cullen, "made it necessary to travel with haste. I will not keep you waiting. I'm certain you are looking forward to hearing about our research."

He turned on his heel, robes fluttering about him as he strode back out of the sitting room, leading them deeper into the maze of hallways.

Javan looked over his shoulder, "I'd like to introduce you to someone else. Though, I have a hunch the Commander might already be acquainted with him."

Cullen was at a loss to remember someone they might both know that would be in Minrathous. They neared the end of one of the long arched hallways, before Javan stopped in front of a closed door. He rapped gently and looked back at them expectantly.

"Come in, please," called a voice from the inside.

The door opened to a face Cullen had not seen for years. The man had been fellow Templar. One who'd been stationed with him at Ferelden's Circle all those years ago.

Cullen blinked in disbelief as Carroll stared back.

Carroll lifted himself from the desk chair where he'd been engaged with quill and paper. A small smile of recognition stole across his face, "Well I'll be the Queen of Antiva!" The words were Carroll's but his voice was unusually flat. He remembered the man as an animated, emotional speaker. Perhaps time had changed Carroll too.

"I don't believe it," Cullen shook his head. "Last I saw you-"

"I was in a sorry state. Javan here truly does the Maker's work." Carroll's eyes briefly flashed to Corvus and back to his. Cullen thought the man had likely withered away long ago. He'd remembered Carroll had struggled deeply with lyrium, much more so than any of the other Templars he'd been stationed with. If Corvus had managed to help Carroll, perhaps there was hope after all.

Carroll's eyes seemed sunken – empty and far away when he spoke again, "We have a lot of catching up to do."


	14. Elusive

**Chapter 14**

_Cullen_

He took his meal that night with the Corvus family, Lord Javan Corvus and Lady Cambria Corvus. With what little time Cullen had spent with the people of Tevinter, he hadn't known what to expect, but Javan proved to be an eloquent conversationalist. Between Javan and Dorian, he was thoroughly entertained – up until the main course arrived.

The change in attitude in the dining room was largely due to the fact that Lady Cambria was an absolutely insufferable woman. The goose was overcooked to her taste resulting in an overly dramatic tirade against the cook which lasted long enough for Cullen to finish his entire plate – which was, in fact quite delicious. Thankfully, Corvus managed to quell her rage with the story of their engagement.

"It was on the very bottom, can you imagine?" Cambria let loose an ear piercing cackle of a laugh. "I nearly devoured it!"

Javan swirled his wine before taking another sip. "I should have considered the risk before I decided to put it in the pudding. A ring in a glass of champagne would have been far more visible, but the bread pudding was always her favorite."

Dorian chimed in. "I suppose you would have found it either coming or going in that case, my dear Cambria."

Javan nearly choked on his last bite of goose while Cambria's face was stone.

Seeing her reaction, Javan quickly came to Dorian's defense. "Oh darling, it was just a jest. Perhaps better saved for after dinner conversation, but a jest nonetheless." He stroked the back of her hand lightly, the way you'd try to soothe a pet cat in distress.

Cullen wondered what Javan saw in the woman. Likely money and station and little beyond that. Dorian had mentioned if he'd stayed in Tevinter that his fate may have been the same. Cullen couldn't stand a dinner with a woman of this type, let alone a lifetime of arranged marriage.

After the main course, they were served sponge cake with fresh berries and cream. It had been so long since Cullen had enjoyed a dessert. He'd always had a sweet tooth, his mom and sisters were amazing bakers, creating an endless thirst for pastries that could never be satiated. But Cullen felt almost guilty enjoying such a wonderful meal now while his men were back in the barracks on a soldier's rations.

Corvus was the first to stand after finishing his meal. "Let me show you the guest quarters. We will begin your treatment in the morning." He clutched his wine glass and looked to his wife. "Excuse us darling."

Cambria took her leave while the three of them walked the long hall where they'd met Carroll earlier.

Corvus pointed to one end of the hall. "Down at the end is the privy. There is a smaller sitting room here, and the library is the second to last door on the right."

Cullen was growing weary of the pleasantries. Not a thing had been said regarding what kind of treatment he was being offered or how long it would take. "I'd like to know more about what sort of treatment you are offering."

Javan laughed, playfully raising his wine glass. "Of course Commander. I should know, all of you Templar types like things to be methodically planned. My apologies."

Cullen didn't think he was being picky in wanting to understand what this was all about. "I'd just like to know if this is something I want to commit to."

Javan opened a door to the sitting room, gesturing to a lavish silk upholstered chair against the opposite wall. Cullen took a seat as Javan reclined in the seat next to him. Dorian sat cross-legged in an armchair underneath the far window, letting the others take the lead.

"I understand your concerns, Commander." Javan leaned forward, the firelight playing shadows across his face. "But rest assured, we've cared for dozens of Templars and mages who have need to eliminate their dependence on lyrium. For most, it is a process that lasts less than a week. I would expect it to be the same course for you."

Cullen settled into his chair, tapping his fingers against his armrest. "Could you describe the process?"

"The details are different for everyone, but it begins with a well-placed cleansing spell. We have managed to pinpoint the source of the cravings and… extricate them."

Dorian straightened. "I beg your pardon, Javan, but targeted spells of this kind have been attempted before with…" he rubbed his chin, "unpredictable results."

Javan sipped his wine, licking his lips before responding. "I am well aware of other failed attempts at the same, but let me assuage your fears. You've already spoken with Carroll who has finished his treatment. You would be more than welcome to speak with him at greater length should it ease your mind."

Cullen was grateful when Dorian pushed for more detail. "Would you mind if I looked at your spellbook? You do have the process outlined in detail there I imagine."

"I do." He twisted the stem of the glass between his fingers. "And you are welcome to it. Why don't you meet me early in the East Tower? We can take our breakfast there and I will show you everything then." He slapped one hand against his knee. "Ha! And you Commander, perhaps you would like to break your fast with Carroll. Do some catching up?"

Cullen looked to Dorian before he agreed, watching for any hint that he should answer otherwise. But Dorian seemed placated by Javan's explanation, at least for the moment. "I would like that," Cullen finally answered.

"Fabulous." Javan tipped his glass back, swallowing the last of the wine and set it down on a side table. "Let's continue on to your rooms then."

Javan led them down to the end of the hall. He gestured to Cullen's room, which would be the last on the left and Dorian's, which was across from it.

"Do you have a rookery, My Lord?" Cullen asked. "I'd like to send a letter tonight if I could."

"Of course, ring the bell for the servants at your convenience and one of them will retrieve it."

Cullen tried to hide his discomfort. "If it's not too much trouble, could one of them lead me to the birds? I like to choose the messenger myself. I find that choosing the right bird greatly improves the delivery time."

A flash of irritation crossed his features and was gone just as quickly. "I don't see why that would be a problem." He turned the handle on the door designated as Cullen's and gestured inside.

The room was large, much bigger than his office back at Skyhold. The draperies and carpeting were of a deep purple and a four poster bed in the corner supported a canopy of the same hue. Cullen felt quite out of his element, but quickly caught himself, snapping his head around to thank his host.

"It's magnificent, thank you very much for your hospitality, My Lord."

"It is my pleasure." He opened the other guest room for Dorian before excusing himself for the night. "Cambria and I will be having our nightly walk on the Veranda. Please don't hesitate to ring if you need anything. Good night gentlemen."

Dorian thanked him before he whisked himself down the hall with a flutter of his robes.

Cullen took a few steps into his quarters, trying not to waste time calculating the cost of each bronze candelabra hanging on the wall, each silken sheet on the bed, each marble figure on the mantle. It was mind boggling.

"A room fit for a princess," Dorian chortled, then quieted only to let out a much louder laugh after trying to hold it in. "I'm hoping mine has a doll house. Oh! And a little table with silver place settings for a tea party."

Cullen completely ignored him. "What are we doing here?" He shook his head.

Dorian closed the door behind them, speaking again with a hushed voice and getting directly to the point. "Did you see something wrong with that Templar?"

Cullen sank into a chair against the wall. "He was Carroll, but somehow… not Carroll." He inhaled, starting again. "He was empty somehow."

Dorian nodded. "I saw it too. I think we tread carefully now. Let me investigate the man's spells. If they seem too dangerous, we will somehow excuse ourselves." The mage leaned against the bedpost. "It helps that I am my father's son. He would do nothing to risk his ire."

Cullen squeezed his eyes closed, trying to relive the conversation in the sitting room. "Do you know anything about the spell he was describing?"

Dorian sat on the bed, laying back and looking at the ceiling as he spoke. "Many Magisters of the Imperium have made experiments of focal cleansing. But they have always come with a price. Danarius was especially known for his cleansing and silencing magic. Blood magic and lyrium powered him. He used it on his own slaves, in fact, to wipe away the memories of their previous lives. It eventually came back to bite him, however, as he was killed by his own slave. You may have heard the story of Fenris."

"Hawke's Fenris?"

"The same."

Cullen sighed heavily, feeling more tired than he had all day. "If this magic is anything like what you're describing, we have made this trip for nothing."

"Agreed. But we should gather more details before we head back. I'm no expert in this type of magic, but I should be able to recognize something sinister from his spellbook. Who knows, maybe Corvus has gained ground on Danarius' spells. There may be something new I've overlooked that could actually help you."

Cullen pushed himself out of his chair, forcing himself to the writing desk at the back of the room. He rifled through the top drawers of the desk, pulling out parchment and a quill.

Dorian yawned languorously, stretching across the bed. "I can see you're eager to scribble sweet nothings to your lady friend." He rolled to the edge and lifted himself to his feet. "I'll leave you be."

Cullen dipped his quill in the inkwell. "Thank you for this Dorian. Even if it doesn't work out, I do appreciate it."

Dorian nodded, leaving Cullen to his blank piece of parchment.

 

_Dearest Ellana,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. We arrived at House Corvus today. It is larger and more lavish than anything I've seen since the Winter Palace. Javan Corvus seems friendly enough and he seems to be trying to keep the process behind these treatments as transparent as possible. Dorian and I have our doubts, however, about the type of magic involved. Dorian mentioned the class of magic sounded similar to that used by Danarius on his slaves to wipe away memories. Corvus seems to be using it to wipe away the symptoms of withdrawal in a similar manner. I worry about the side effects. Tomorrow, Dorian meets with Corvus to review his spellbook. At that time, I should be able to make a decision on whether this is something I want to pursue. I will keep you informed as I know more. If we decide to stay to begin this process, Corvus estimates a seven day course._

_Another thing that worries me. Carroll is here, an ex-Templar who was stationed with me at Ferelden's Circle. It's not his presence that makes me anxious, but his manner. We talked only briefly, but he seemed very distant. Broken somehow. I know I haven't seen the man in years, but he seems… changed._

_I hope this letter doesn't worry you (as it seems I'm doing too much of that lately). Maker knows I worry for you. I pray constantly for your safe return. I cannot wait to have you back in my arms, safe and warm. And forget about debriefing Lelliana first… even if she insists. You will be reporting to my office immediately following your arrival at Skyhold._

_Yours Always,_

_Cullen_


	15. Deceive

**Author's Note:**  I want to thank you all for your kind reviews. I really look forward to logging on and reading all of your comments. I am having a blast writing this fic and I hope you are enjoying it too! We are into the thick of things now. Last chapter I went into a little background on Danarius - Fenris' master from DAII. If you're interested in reading more about my take on the Fenris/Danarius conflict, check out my other story  _Only the Living Know Victory_. Not necessary to appreciate  _Withdrawal_ but it may help explain some of these spells we are starting to encounter. And with that… time for more Dorian!

 

**Chapter 15**

_Dorian_

 

He did not sleep well. The sickening incensed air, the slaves whispering around dark corners – it reminded him of why he left Tevinter in the first place. Not only that, but he needed to snuff out the incessant buzz of unease at the back of his mind.

Dorian finally decided to rise just before the light of dawn. He would try to catch Javan off guard - meet him at the East Tower a little earlier than expected. Maybe he could discover the truth of things when it wasn't perfectly scripted for him.

He dressed and made his way silently down the hall they had walked last night. From there he headed in the only direction he thought could be east. Dorian had stayed at House Corvus before, but he had been but a young man then. He'd come a time or two with his father, though they stayed mostly in the common areas – the main hall, the dining room, and the library. He turned right at the end of the guest hallway, nearly running into a mousy elf still trying to button his trousers and carrying a pair of shoes under his arm.

"Pardon me, Ser," the slave's voice was panicked, his eyes guiltily lowered to the floor, as he began backing away the direction he'd been heading.

But Dorian realized he could not have asked for a more perfect opportunity. This lusty little slave, likely caught red-handed leaving his lover's room would lead him right where he needed to go.

He looked down at the elf and spoke with the most admonishing tone he could muster. "May I ask where you've been?"

"Ser, please. I've – You can't tell –"

"Oh, do stop your groveling," Dorian snapped. "If you tell me right away where I can find your master's experiments, I will keep this to myself. He asked that I meet him and I've gotten turned around." Dorian knew how to play the game of information and he planned to do it well today. He owed Cullen that much for dragging him halfway across Thedas for what could be nothing or even worse than nothing.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Ser."

Dorian looked at him from under his brows - a silent threat powered by years of observing his father make just the same look.

The elf shifted, eyes darting over his shoulder. "He works mostly in his tower. East. You are heading the right way." He pointed down the hallway. "Keep going then turn left after you see the white bust of Archon Thalsian. The hallway darkens and there is a small entry that you will not miss."

"You said mostly. Where does he work the remainder of his time?"

The elf was looking more nervous, head twitching back and forth to glance down the hallway. "He has been seeing a lot of Templars lately," he dropped his voice so low, Dorian had to lean down to make it out. "Down below. In the room below the tower." The slave backed up farther. "I need to go."

"Yes you do." Dorian confirmed.

The slave bolted, dropping a shoe in the process. He ran back to retrieve it before sprinting around the corner. It was far too early for Javan to be up so he would have some time to look around a bit. This was perfect.

As Dorian neared the end of the long corridor, the lighting became dimmer, just as the elf had said. By the time he passed the statue the slave had spoken of and turned left, the candelabras on the wall were lit only sporadically. It created an eerie flickering light down the remainder of the hall. Dorian found the thin doorway that he guessed was the entrance to the tower. It was the only door nearby.

He paused to look over his shoulder, then pushed open the door to reveal a small round office with a fireplace. The coals were dying in the fireplace and there were no windows, making it impossible to see the wall on the other side of the space. Dorian backed out to retrieve the closest candelabra from the wall in the corridor before venturing in to explore the room.

A spiral staircase wound its way around the outer circumference of the office leading up to another level. There were several tomes scattered about the large table in the middle of the space. A sofa and a recliner were arranged around the table and a desk stood at the far wall.

Dorian went straight for the desk and the stack of papers on top of it.

There was correspondence from a magister regarding slaves, one from a Templar seeking treatment (with no helpful details to speak of), and another from a farmer regarding an upcoming trade. Dorian shifted from the desk back to the table he'd passed over. He skimmed over several volumes before reaching one that seemed different.

It was old, that was for sure. The bindings were worn and it was hand-written inside - possibly the personal journal of a mage or magister. He flipped through the book, the spells painting a picture of just what he feared. This was blood magic. Spells designed to erase memories though the use of some twisted blood/lyrium cocktail.

There was a gruesome diagram. A slave drinking five regular doses of lyrium, then a magister slicing her wrist and using the lyrium infused blood to fuel the spell. The next page described the reaction of the "volunteer" after having experienced the process. The effects were not immediate, but took place over the course of the week. Slowly forgetting more and more until there was only a base memory for world events, common language, and every day happenings. Personal relationships, goals, and memories were all lost. Strangely, there was no mention of its use for symptoms of withdrawal. But this was a magic he did not want any part of. He'd seen enough.

Feeling much more on edge, Dorian took a deep breath and replaced the book on the table. It was time to go. He'd find Cullen and make some excuse to be off before the sun.

Dorian opened the door, only to hear footsteps down the hallway.

He cursed under his breath before closing the door again as quietly as possible. He surveyed the room again for another exit, this time noticing a smaller door at the back of the room. He headed that way, closing the door behind him as he navigated a narrow descending stairway. The room got colder and the air damper as he went deeper. There was a thrumming rhythm to the stone down here, though that could have been just his own pounding heart. As he continued step by step, he could swear the walls were expanding and contracting. Maybe he was dizzy. The stairs  _were_ rather steep and uneven - he had to focus on his feet to avoid tumbling to the bottom.

When he reached the last step, he realized what he'd been sensing the entire time.

Lyrium.

And not your garden variety blue either. The shelves were thick with Red Lyrium. Crystals were scattered about and more seemed to be starting to spread from them into the wall. Someone was trying to grow it down here.

If Dorian had known they needed to leave before, now they should have been gone five minutes ago. He tried to ignore the drone of the glowing substance long enough to concoct some semblance of a plan. There was no place to hide down there. There were only walls. Walls and tables with collection tools. Picks, chisels, and vials for harvesting.

If someone came down here, there would be a fight. If someone knew he knew… there would be a fight. If he was caught upstairs in the Tower, there could be a fight. Since there seemed to be no way out of a fight this time, he grabbed a particularly long and pointy pick and hung it from his belt. A weapon pointier than the mage's next to you could make the difference in a fight. Especially if the mage had Templars around – Templars with access to Red Lyrium.

He shook his head. This was only getting worse. How was this getting worse?

Dorian climbed the stairs again, this time much slower, trying to listen to any signs of occupation in the room upstairs. He leaned against the door for what felt like an age, hearing nothing but the ragged rhythm of his own breathing. He didn't know how much time had passed before he heard voices coming from above - likely from the second floor of the tower. The voices grew closer until he heard the door close. Silence.

Dorian took his chance, opening the door and stepping into the main floor of the Tower.

Carroll stood not two feet away, armored in Red Lyrium-infused plate, eyes blazing red and angry. A dozen lies crossed his mind at once, but none came to his lips. Just as he thought to conjure a protective barrier to shield himself, the air was knocked violently out of his body. His strength was sapped as he fell weakly to the floor.

Dorian recognized the unmistakable effects of the smite, though he'd never experienced it himself before. He tried to climb to his feet, gathering what little mana he expected would remain, but it was as though he was scraping the sides of an empty bowl. There was nothing left. Nothing to power a stun even. Nothing to get him around Carrol.

Carrol turned from him momentarily, barking down the hallway, "Corvus!"

Dorian scrambled to his feet, reaching for the pick at his waist and charging Carroll while his back was turned. Unfortunately, he was met by a well-placed elbow to the gut and the pick clattered loudly against the stone. Suddenly the sky seemed to open up in crimson light and he was thrown against a bookshelf. His back erupted in a swarm of pins and needles. He gasped at the pain, trying to push himself up onto his elbows, but found that moving was just another kind of torture.

Carroll looked down at him, as one would study a strange insect. Javan entered a moment later seeing Dorian in a heap, fallen books all around. Javan rubbed his face in a long, tired motion from top to bottom. His voice was no more than a sigh when he turned to Carroll. "May we have a moment?"

The Templar shot Dorian one last dagger with his eyes before stepping a bit too loudly from the room.

"You understand, I had no choice in this," Javan said as the door closed. He bent down, placing a hand on his forehead. Dorian tried to pull back, knowing full well that nothing good was coming, but he was no longer in control of himself. His limbs would not respond, his head foggy with the earlier onslaught. He could not form a counterspell to the one Javan sent snaking through his mind. He felt the cold fingers of his magic trail across his skin and settle near the base of the skull. A weight of cold, dense cotton seemed to settle there. He recognized the sensation, though it was more powerful than he'd experienced before. He was silenced.

Javan searched his body for other weapons, taking his staff and collecting the fallen pick. "They came just before you did."

Dorian dared to breathe, filling his chest with fire from the effort. "Who?" He managed, his voice not more than a raspy croak.

"Samson." Dorian pressed his eyes closed, willing this all to be a sick nightmare, but Javan continued. "He left his Lieutenant Carroll here along with a half dozen more Red Templars." He paused a moment, looking into the fire. "I'm sorry."


	16. Remove

**Chapter 16 - Remove**

_Cullen_

                It was another night of dark terrors and cold sweats – this time in an unfamiliar bed with an uneasy feeling in his gut. It had been several days since his last dose of lyrium and the ache behind his eyes was intensifying. There was no point in staying in bed any longer.

                Cullen rose with the sun, strapping on his armor and boots. He knelt briefly before the window. He allowed the first sunlight to wash over him as he closed his eyes, filling his mind and heart with words that he knew well.

_Oh Creator, see me kneel_

_For I walk only where you would bid me_

_Stand only in places you have blessed_

_Sing only the words you place in my throat_

_My Maker, know my heart_

_Take from me a life of sorrow_

_Lift me from a world of pain_

_Judge me worthy of your endless pride_

The prayer came easily to his lips as it had thousands of times before. The words filled him with a confidence that he did not have on his own, spreading a warmth of purpose through him.

He rose again, making his way across the hall to check on Dorian. He knocked, but was met only with silence. He peeked into the room. It was empty. Perhaps he’d already risen to meet Corvus before breakfast.

Cullen strode down the long guest hall, trying to navigate his way to the dining room. He did want to speak with Carroll again. There were so many unanswered questions. What had brought him to Corvus? What had he been doing since serving at the Ferelden Circle? Maybe he could uncover answers about his strange demeanor, set his mind at ease.

He turned down the corridor with the long gold flecked runner. He was fairly sure it led back to the front of the estate. House Corvus was a little more familiar this morning than it was yesterday, especially after wandering around late last night looking for the rookery. He’d eventually managed to find it with the help of several servants. He felt much more at ease after sending the letter off with a stout looking raven with sharp eyes. The bird seemed particularly eager, always a sign of a faster flight.

He passed through the main hall. Yellow beams of morning sunlight streamed in through the tall windows, illuminating the tapestries on the walls. He followed the sounds of clanging silverware and the smoky smell of breakfast meat until he found the dining room. Servants were busy making place settings, preparing for the morning’s meal, whispering to each other

“He was up early this morning.”

“Where is he now?”

“Back in the tower. He went down below to stow the mage in the dungeon, but he should be back in his-“

He stopped to listen, hoping to discover more, but the slave’s voice had dropped so low he lost the conversation. The mage. Who were they talking about? Was Corvus holding a prisoner? He needed to get closer.

But as soon as he took a few more steps toward the dining room, the servants cleared out. They had heard his not-so-stealthy entrance. Some left their place settings unfinished and all of them refused to give eye contact. He stood alone in the eerie quiet before the table, debating his next move.

Should he chase after them, demand to know what prisoner they were talking about? He thought against that plan. The slaves were probably bound by House Corvus to keep his secrets.

He reached for the back of one of the dining room chairs and leaned against it, still considering his options, when a loud crack echoed all around him followed by sudden agony spreading from the back of his head. He whipped around, searching for the source of the blow, but was met with a wave of dizziness and vision that was quickly blackening around the edges. He grasped for the chair again, in an attempt to steady himself, but his knees buckled despite the effort. Eventually, the darkness consumed him.

 

* * *

 

 

Another dream. Demons whispering in the dark. He couldn’t see them, his eyes were too heavy to open. Nauseous. Dizzy. A dagger in the back of his skull.

“He’s awake, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, then let’s start with the spell. He can have no memory of why he came. It will help with the transition.”

The voices seemed vaguely familiar in this dream.

“Bring the slave, Lieutenant.”

“Of course.”

Cullen was sure he’d heard the voices before. He tried to force his eyes to work, to cut through the haze of this dream. Maybe he could force himself awake. He struggled to move, but found himself tied at the wrists and feet. Secured to something hard and unyielding. Not a dream. The pain was real.

Through the fog, he noticed a struggle as a smaller figure - bound at the wrists and gagged – was led into the room by a Templar. Not just any Templar. A Red Templar – armor glowing crimson. His eyes blazed red with the power of the lyrium.

How had he not seen it before? Carroll had looked empty, that was true. But he would have recognized red lyrium influence. How had they managed to conceal it?

Carroll handed the slave over to another Red Templar standing behind them then stepped to his side. Cullen tried to break free, but felt no give from the ties at his wrists. He was prone on a table in the middle of a circular stone room. It was dimly lit by candles placed sparsely all around the space. Carroll stood between Cullen and the only way out. Another man worked behind him. When the man stepped to the side of Cullen to thumb through a stack of parchment he recognized Corvus.

This was bad. Red Templar involvement? What could they possibly want with him? _He can have no memory of why he came._ Were they planning to erase his memories? Was that even possible? What could they…

Realization struck like a giant’s fist. They would take away his memories before forcing him into the Red Templar order. To fight for Corypheus. To fight against…

Cullen focused all of his strength on creating a blast of energy to smite Corvus. Without lyrium, his Templar powers were not quite as strong, but he did have years of practice on his side. He allowed himself to reach out to feel the influence of Corvus’ mana. It was cold and thick, like a pasty blanket around the man. Cullen tried to get a hold on it. He gathered what energy he could and sent it in a wave at the mage’s chest. Corvus fell back against a table, stunned. Unfortunatley Carroll reacted quickly, charging to where he lay, prone and exposed.

Cullen’s face exploded - burning misery, the sickening crunch of bone, and the room was spinning. Liquid flowed from his nose into his mouth, warm and metallic. He choked on it, turning his head to let it run down the side of his face instead.

“Do _not_ attempt that again.” Carroll was close enough that he felt the man’s hot breath on his face.

He heard Corvus shuffling behind him. “He won’t.”

Slowly, the misery that was his entire face and head was filled with a cold stifling pressure.

“It is done. He won’t be using his Templar training anytime soon. Let us continue.”

Cullen was bound - unable fight physically. He could not fight using his Templar abilities – Corvus had taken those. All that remained was his voice.

Cullen’s throat burned with the effort of speech. “Why are you doing this Corvus?” He directed his question at the mage, already seeing that Carroll was not himself. The glow of red lyrium was indication enough that the Templar was serving a new master. Corypheus was controlling him now, but maybe Corvus… “You could just as easily help us, join the Inquisition and have the protection of our forces. We could –“

Carroll slammed his fist against the table Cullen was strapped to, the vibration adding a new element of torment to his already pounding headache. “Silence!”

“You are too late for this discussion, Commander. My path has already been chosen for me.”

“I’ve heard enough.” Carrol went to a side table, returning with a cloth which Cullen guessed was meant to keep him quiet.

“Corvus. You must consider it. We have the Herald of Andraste and the entire Inquisition on our side. Corypheus will fall. We can-“

But Carroll shoved the gag into his mouth before he could finish, tying it roughly around his head before stepping aside to let Corvus by.

When the attention turned from Cullen back to the slave, her eyes grew round as orbs. She was shaking visibly, trying to make her screams heard despite the gag in her mouth. The other Templar stood behind her, holding her hands which were secured behind her back. Corvus motioned for the Templar to bring her forward. He pressed her against the table as Corvus started chanting – a slow monotonous drone in an unfamiliar tongue.

Cullen closed his eyes and prayed. The Chant of Light was, as always, close to his lips when he needed it.

_Blessed are those who stand before_

_The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter._

_Blessed are the peacekeepers. The champions of the just._

Corvus’ voice. “Drink!” The girl - gulping and gagging. Again and again.

_O Maker hear my cry_

_Deliver me through the blackest nights_

_Give me the strength to continue your fight._

Glass shattering, a last muffled scream before a gurgling and the repulsive smack of flesh on stone.

_Give me the wisdom to choose the right path and the courage to follow it._

Chanting – louder now. Clammy fingers on his forehead, pressing into flesh and with them, tendrils of ice tunneling deeper.

_Maker be with Dorian, deliver him from this evil nest of blood magic and taint._

A calloused hand on his face - removing the gag and spilling putrid liquid into his mouth. He choked on the vile mixture, spitting what he could. What little he swallowed was fire down his throat.

_Maker watch over Ellana. Protect her where I have failed._

The ice burrowed into the base of his skull, frozen splinters shooting down his spine, freezing his limbs.

_Ellana. Forgive me._

Convulsions began from his shoulders down, rocking his body, each violent spasm causing a new eruption of bitter torment. He heard himself groan, but it was hardly his voice at all anymore. It was far away, he was floating, separating from himself. Hovering above his body, outside, but it was getting dark. Empty -and he gave in to the peaceful caress of nothingness.


	17. Grave

**Chapter 17**

_Ellana_

Things were going better than expected in the Emerald Graves. It had only been a few days and they'd already managed to clear Argon's Lodge of a deluded Chevalier and taken back Villa Maruel. Ellana was headed back to Fairbanks to report in when a messenger caught them on the road.

The man stood panting and held out a folded piece of parchment. She wondered if he'd run the entire trail to meet them. "A letter arrived in Watcher's Reach this morning, Inquisitor." Ellana jumped off her horse, giving the note her complete attention. It was sealed, but she didn't recognize the symbol stamped in the wax fastener.

"Thank you." Ellana nodded to the messenger, who turned back the way he came, this time at a slower pace. She cut the seal with her dagger, her heart jumping into her throat as she recognized the penmanship.

"Good news from the Commander, then?" Varric's voice only barley registered over Ellana's shoulder as she read the letter again. She only realized after she was finished that she'd probably had an idiotic grin on her face the whole time. The rest of the party had also dismounted, waiting silently for some word about the correspondence.

"There is hope – light and airy. A bird's wingbeat. But fear rides on the current. Fear of what may come. Empty eyes and unspoken threats. She knows he is afraid." She felt very exposed when Cole read her emotions like this. She'd tried to lecture him on keeping these thoughts to himself, but it seemed he was getting lessons from others as well. She eyed Varric.

"Come on, Kid. Give it to us straight," Varric complained to Cole. He had made it his own personal mission to help Cole make his observations less cryptic.

Cole bit his lip, trying again. "She is worried about him. He is unsure of something. But she is also hopeful. It may still help him."

"See Kid? Much better!" Varric slapped him on the back, sending Cole back a step to keep his balance.

Ellana tried to ignore them, re-reading each word, more carefully this time, before divulging its contents. She hadn't yet told them of Cullen's plans to travel to Tevinter for treatment, but there was no hiding it now.

She held the letter at her side, choosing the most appropriate words to describe Cullen's situation. "Cullen has sought… help for a personal issue in Minrathous from a friend of Dorian's. They arrived safely in Minrathous, but Cullen is worried about some people he's met who seem to be acting strangely. I think we continue with our plans to update Fairbanks and finish our business here. Cullen said he should not be more than a week in Tevinter. I will write back once we reach camp to see if he has any more details, but he may indeed beat us back to Skyhold if all goes well."

"I wish he would have informed all of us." Cassandra's mouth was a tight line. "But it does not surprise me."

Ellana sighed. "He wouldn't have wanted anyone to worry about him, especially if he felt it would detract from the Inquisition in any way." She folded the note and tucked it into an inner pocket in her armor. "Let's get back to camp."

She mounted again and started her horse at a trot. As they meandered through the last stretch of woods before camp, Ellana allowed her thoughts to wander to the last lines of Cullen's letter. She couldn't wait to "report to his office immediately." He was starting to become more self-assured in their relationship which in turn, grew her confidence. She no longer had to wonder how he felt about her. To have someone who loved her, who worried for her, yearned for her… it was almost more than she felt she deserved. Ellana sped her horse up a bit, ensuring she was at the front of the party. She didn't need anyone asking her about the smile on her lips - a smile that she couldn't remove even if she tried.

* * *

_Dorian_

The room smelled damp and heavy, like mold was growing in the very air around him. No light filtered down below the estate. They'd left him with just one torch, and though Dorian could not have been captive for long, he'd already lost track of whether it was day or night above. It was clear that Javan had not held many prisoners in the dungeon. None of the servants seemed to know what they were supposed to do with him. They scurried around like mice, coming in pairs to bring his meals before scurrying back up the stairs in a hurry.

He'd tried his magic, seeing if he'd be able to find a way to escape, but his mana still felt strangely stifled. He couldn't even muster a spell strong enough to freeze his cup of water. Instead, he'd turned his attention to scripting a narrative to talk his way out of this. It made no sense for Javan to be doing this to them. If his father heard about his treatment, Javan would never become a magister. The man could not be completely beyond reason. If he could just get him alone, he might be able to convince him that the Inquisition could protect him.

Just then, the door leading downstairs creaked a warning that someone was approaching. Two slaves descended the stairs in unison, never looking towards his cell.

"Excuse me," Dorian called out, trying to sound far from a frightening predator and closer to an innocent captive. "Would you please tell Javan that I would like a word with him?"

One slave shot the other a wide-eyed look before she dropped a tray of steaming dinner at his feet. Neither dared to risk a glance at him, let alone speak to him before they bounded up the stairs and closed the door soundly behind them.

Dorian heaved a sigh, turning his attention to the only bright spot in the last day. Despite his prisoner status, the meals tasted as though he was back in the dining room. Piping hot and savory meats, fresh vegetables, and nutty grains. At least he could be thankful for something as he slid the tray under the door.

Dorian had just shoveled the last of the roast into his mouth when he heard footfalls on the stairs.

Javan.

"I suppose I owe you at least an explanation." The man said, taking the last of the stairs slowly, his eyes locked on Dorian, as though he was wary about whether his silencing spell had held up.

Dorian rose, standing as close to Javan as possible while gripping the bars of his cell dramatically. "Do you really need to do  _this_? We could have a civilized discussion instead of all of this… brutality."

Javan turned away, running his hands through his hair. "You have no idea what I'd give to be able to do just that."

Dorian pressed his face between the bars, his whispered response echoed off the walls around them. "You can!" He closed his eyes, willing Javan to understand. "The Inquisition could be here in a few days, in full force, to protect this place. To protect you and your family."

Javan narrowed his eyes and shook his head fiercely. "No." He softened his tone, repeating himself. "No. It's not possible."

Dorian studied the man. He was hiding something.

"Why?" he asked. He tried to calm himself, backing away slightly. "I can see you have your reasons. I just need to know why."

Javan turned from him again, clinging to the door of the cell across from him. "You were too young to recall my family's shame. The reason we have climbed so close to the Magisterium without ever breaking through." Javan fingered his signet ring, the blue stone glinting in the low torchlight. "My son. My  _only_ son was born with no magical aptitude. He wanted nothing more than to make his father proud but I was… unforgiving." He gripped the bars until his knuckles were white. "He left Tevinter when he was no more than thirteen, searching for meaning, for some path that would give him purpose. He found the Templar order in Ostwick."

"I – I never knew you had a son." Dorian found himself stumbling, something he rarely did. But he'd remembered no children at House Corvus and he was educated on the family lines of all of the most influential houses in Tevinter. They must have gone to great lengths – and expense – to hide this particular family secret.

Javan let out a long breath. "Not many do. I let my hunger for power supersede the needs of my family and only now that it's too late to turn around do I actually see the path I've chosen. The wrong path."

Dorian's voice was sincere when he spoke again. "It's not too late. Perhaps your son would understand. Maybe he would be relieved to hear of your change of heart." He needed to give Javan hope enough to turn away from this decision to keep them prisoner, though Dorian knew as well as anyone, that wounds inflicted by family cut deeper than any other. The weigth of his past decisions regarding his son may be too much.

Javan turned to meet his eyes then, blazing with the torchlight and the fury of hidden pain. "That's just it. Corypheus found him first. My son is a Red Templar now, a follower of Corypheus, and if I don't help him and the other Red Templars, he will be executed."

Dorian fumbled for a response, but nothing seemed adequate. "Isn't there a way. Can't you just warn the Inquisition. Maybe he wouldn't know…" It sounded stupid as soon as it was out of his mouth. Of course Corypheus would know. He has spies all over Thedas and sees whatever he wants to see.

"It doesn't matter now anyway. As soon as the Red Templars got to your Commander it was over."

Dorian's eyes closed involuntarily, heavy with guilt. His finely formed narrative ploy for freedom was long gone. He was fumbling for anything now, feeling his and Cullen's freedom slipping farther out of his grasp. "Is there no way to convince them to let us leave? Why Cullen? Is one more Templar worth all of this?"

"I'm afraid Corypheus has had his eye on Commander Cullen for some time. Especially after he was given word of the Inquisitor's personal feelings for him."

Dorian could only stare blankly in disbelief as Javan continued.

"Cullen is to become a Red Templar. My guess is that Corypheus plans to use him as bait to twist the Inquisitor to his will." Javan looked at Dorian now, pity just behind his eyes. "This isn't about you or me anymore. It isn't about Cullen. It is about power. Corypheus has played his hand well and unless your Inquisitor has one more incredible miracle up her sleeve right about now, I don't think we could stop him if we tried."

Javan turned without another word and when he was gone, Dorian let himself crumple to the stone floor. He held his head in his hands and wrestled with his own blame in the silent gloom of the dungeon for what seemed like an eternity.


	18. Directive

**Chapter 18**

_Cullen_

Flowing tapestries, thick bedding, and perfumed air all around – this was not his room. Cullen knew he should remember whose home he was staying in, but as soon as he'd woken, it was as though he was in a dream. He climbed out of bed and drew the curtains, allowing the morning sun to stream into the room. At least he knew what time of day it was, but the grounds outside gave no clue as to where he was.

He found his armor piled on the bench seat at the foot of the bed and dressed slowly, hoping that something would trigger a memory. He thought he'd come with Dorian, but even now their arrival here seemed distant. Maybe he had come alone. Was it Dorian's acquaintance he was staying with?

Finding that pacing the room wasn't helping, he decided to head outdoors to soak in some morning sunlight. He turned down the hallway and nearly ran head on into a Templar.

The man took a step back, eyes wide with surprise. "Good morning, Cullen! I didn't think we'd see you up and about so soon."

Cullen rubbed the side of his face. "This is a bit embarrassing to admit, but my head seems to be a little cloudy this morning. I can hardly recall your name, let alone my purpose here."

The Templar let out a breath he seemed to be holding before placing a hand on Cullen's back, leading him toward the main hall. "I'm Carroll and do not worry. This is not unheard of. You are in the midst of a serious treatment and side effects like this are expected."

Cullen scrunched his eyebrows together and shook his head. "I feel like I should at least remember –"

"Let's get outside of these walls for a moment. I'll explain everything."

Carroll looked over his shoulder before leading him outside into the clean morning air. Cullen breathed deeply, stopping in front of a particularly fragrant flowering shrub. Whoever owned this estate had money - money and help to keep a garden of this size in such pristine condition. There were rows of roses against the far wall. They were every shade of red, pink, and yellow he could imagine. The trellises on top of the walls were covered with creeping vines with purple blossoms. There was a fountain in the center of the courtyard and benches nestled at the end of every path.

Carroll broke the silence first, snapping him back to the reality of this strange situation. "You've been here for three days now, Cullen."

He could only stare blankly back at Carroll, waiting for something he said to trigger his memory.

"You were a Templar. I don't know much about your life before you got here, but some have said you left the Inquisition due to differing opinions. You left and came here both to work towards a common goal and to seek help for your… addiction."

Cullen frowned. "Addiction?"

"You, like many Templars – myself included, became addicted to lyrium while in service to the Chantry. At first we used it to accentuate our abilities, but soon it became a need. The Chantry kept us supplied, essentially controlling us if they controlled our lyrium."

The dreams and the pain and nights spent shaking with sweat – yes. Cullen did remember the withdrawal.

"I… I remember the symptoms."

Carroll cupped a perfect pink rose in his hand. "It may be something you never forget. But you came here for treatment to be rid of the lyrium - to be independent."

"Is the treatment what is causing this –" he rubbed his forehead. "This problem with my memory?"

"Yes. It can take up to a week for the effects of the treatment to fully show. You seem to be close already. The treatment has been provided to us by Javan Corvus, a brilliant mage with background in memory and addiction, who has perfected the combination to help us forget our reliance on lyrium. He has also managed to provide a new source of power for our Templar abilities. Red Lyrium. Far more powerful, meaning improved abilities with smaller doses and fewer side effects. He can keep the addiction at bay so that we can do what we do best."

Cullen looked at the Templar. "What's that?"

"Fighting for what we believe in." Carrol's mouth twisted into a sneer. "Keeping apostate heretics from ruining the lives of innocent citizens. Keeping order in Thedas."

"Sounds like you are speaking in more than just generalities. Is there a specific situation I should be aware of? An imminent threat to Thedas?"

Carroll paced to the end of the walk, settling on a bench before looking back at Cullen. "There is a mage. Some are calling her the Herald of Andraste," he twisted the last phrase like he would choke on it. "But she is a heretic. She would destroy all of the Templars to further her cause. She would rid Thedas of the Templar Order so that she and her mage allies can run wild."

Something about the situation was familiar. He had heard about this Herald, hadn't he? It was so frustrating to have a memory that felt just out of reach. Like the feeling when you cannot think of the word you are looking for, even though it feels right there…

Carroll continued - his eyes focused on the back of his gauntlet. "In fact, this apostate has destroyed one of our larger operations in the Emerald Graves. We lost many good men out there. I leave very soon in an attempt to stop this heretic's killing spree and bring her to justice."

Cullen took a few steps toward where Carroll sat. "Sounds like you need all the help you can get."

Carroll looked at him then, putting his palm up between them. "No no. You must finish your treatment before you will be ready to join the fight."

The man continued looking into his eyes, long after social rules dictated one to look away. It left a strange feeling in his gut. But his words sounded sincere enough. He was a fellow Templar. He spoke of a noble cause – saving the Templar Order. Then why did he have an uneasy feeling about the man?

Cullen turned away, looking off at the distant clouds - wispy white trails moving quickly against the blue sky. Maybe it was just the treatment obscuring his judgment.

"What is this apostate's true name? Was she a part of any Circle I was stationed at?"

Carroll answered quickly. "No. The mage is Dalish. Of the Lavellan clan. Her name is Ellana."

Her name struck him in an unexpected way. Ellana. There was something to this name. Something that filled his chest with warmth. He fought to keep his face neutral as he didn't think it appropriate to smile after everything Carroll had said about this heretic.

Carroll narrowed his eyes. "You knew her during your time with the Inquisition. There are rumors that you may have had a –" he looked away before continuing, "relationship with her. But you came to us, fearing what the Inquisition and this woman was doing to Templars."

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. Carroll must have known what emotions he would be experiencing - old feelings of a now broken relationship. Why would he have such warm feelings for someone he had left? Someone who was a heretic?

Carroll heaved a sigh, pushing himself up from the bench. "There will be more time to talk when I return from the Emerald Graves. I believe you have another treatment scheduled soon. I should get you back in to Corvus."

"Of course," Cullen agreed, though he really wanted more time to better understand the situation between this apostate and the Templars.

"Corvus will explain more I'm sure. And there are other Templars here who would be glad to speak with you."

The two Templars parted ways in the foyer, Carroll heading immediately to meet several men who would be accompanying him to the stables to prepare for the journey to the Emerald Graves. Cullen was instructed to head to the dining room.

* * *

Cullen took his breakfast with two other Templars. They were both very quiet. He tried several times to engage the men in friendly small talk about their homes, families, past assignments – anything. They gave phrase length responses and offered no reciprocating questions to speak of. One of the men finally excused himself, apologizing for not being better mealtime company but that the treatments were wearing him out. The other just nodded and the two other men were off to their rooms.

Cullen was sitting alone, scooting what was left of his eggs back and forth on his plate, when a well-dressed man in robes walked in.

"Good morning Cullen. I trust you remember me?"

Cullen didn't want to offend, so he just smiled silently, hoping the man would take the hint.

He did. "I'm Javan Corvus. I've been orchestrating your treatments thus far. How are you feeling?"

Cullen decided to be honest. "Not well. I can't seem to remember anything. Where I've come from. Where I am. Who I came with."

Corvus gestured for him to follow. "That is the hardest part of this process. It will get worse before it gets better, but it is necessary to clear out all of the memory of your dependence on the lyrium. Once we can teach you to base your power on the much steadier more reliable red lyrium, your memories will begin to return."

He walked with Corvus down the long corridor to the guest quarters, but this time they didn't turn to his rooms. Cullen shook his head. "It's all very disorienting. Is this your estate?"

He continued the other direction down an unfamiliar hall. "Yes, this is House Corvus. You came alone. I believe you heard about us from a friend if I recall correctly. Dorian. And if you don't mind me being perfectly frank with you… you arrived just in time. You were in a very sorry state when you first walked through my doors."

He wasn't sure how to respond to that, but he didn't have to, as Corvus continued instead. "You were in deep lyrium withdrawal. Constant pain, sweating and shakes, and terrible dreams interrupting your sleep. It was good timing for you. You seem much more rested and you have your color back now." Corvus placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling.

They stopped at what looked like a dead end in the hall, but Corvus pulled open a thin door which opened into a large circular space.

Corvus gestured for him to take the stairs. He followed the steps as they wound around the outside of the room, up to the second level of the tower. There was a flat wooden table in the middle fashioned with straps for a person's arms and legs. A surge of adrenaline coursed through him as he fought the urge to turn around and dash down the stairs. The treatments, Cullen guessed, had not been completely pain free and part of his mind seemed to remember them perfectly.

But Cullen did want to be free of the lyrium. Free of the torturous withdrawal. Free to choose his own path.

Corvus nodded and Cullen climbed onto the table. Corvus reached for the leather straps on the table. "Just precautionary of course."

Cullen closed his eyes, listening as Corvus began a chant in an unfamiliar tongue. He replayed his conversation with Carroll. He thought of the Templar's anger with the Herald, Ellana. Thinking of her again brought the same heat to his body. The same involuntary smile to his lips.

Then he felt an icy cold touch to his mind. It burrowed in starting at his temples, winding down to the base of his skull, collecting there in a tight little ball.

Ellana. Yes, there she was, blushing on the battlements before he leaned in to kiss her. Her eyes wide and intelligent, her lips slightly parted and he couldn't help himself. He had wanted to kiss her for so long. Oh Maker, why had he waited so long?

The pain spread now from just a pinpoint to the entire back of his head. It was so cold it burned.

And he was losing her face. He tried to focus, to hold onto her image, but it floated into the dark until it seemed to evaporate.

The pain burrowed behind his eyes and Corvus tipped his head forward, spilling something into his mouth to drink. It was red hot fire on his tongue. But he swallowed anyway, hoping it would fight the ice in his head. It didn't. The two seemed to mix, the potion sending fire down to his stomach as the daggers of cold continued to stab all around his head. The fire and ice mixed, sending waves of surging pain through his body, racking him with tremors.

Then he heard the song. It filled his mind with a thrumming beat and an unmistakable command.

_You fight with us now, Brother. The Inquisition is filled with heretic mages who would destroy us. Join your fellow Red Templars. We fight for Corypheus, the true leader of Thedas. He will preserve the Order and lead us to peace._

As the convulsions slowed, his mind felt cold and empty before he slipped into the open space all around him.

He did not dream at all that night.


	19. Captive

**Author's Note:** I hope you all had a wonderful holiday! This chapter, again, includes a bit of background created in another story I have posted on Fanfiction.net regarding Fenris and Varania. Still not necessary to enjoy Withdrawal, but if you're interested the story is called Only The Living Know Victory. I'm sorry my updates have not been coming quite as fast. I'm pregnant and starting to fall asleep soooooo early, it's ridiculous! As always thank you so much for your reviews! Happy New Year!

**Chapter 19**

_Ellana_

She stood at the war table in Skyhold listening as Lelliana gave her final report on their work in the Emerald Graves. They'd only returned a few hours ago and already, more details had surfaced. It looked like her time in Skyhold would be very brief. Their sources had finally revealed who served as liaison between the Red Templars and the Freeman of the Dales.

Lelliana was reading from a correspondence she'd just received, likely from Harding who had stayed behind to finish sorting things out. "He is a Red Templar by the name of Carroll."

Ellana held her temples and shook her head. "No. Please tell me this Carroll wasn't stationed at Ferelden's Circle with Cullen years ago."

She skimmed the letter, mouthing portions of it as she read. "Our intelligence suggests that he was. Though for the last several years, he has remained in the shadows. Likely a victim of lyrium madness," she leaned in, a line forming between her eyes. "Why?"

Ellana hadn't yet shared the letter she'd received from Cullen with her advisors. She pulled it out of her pocket and offered it to the Spymaster.

Ellana saw exactly when Lelliana reached the paragraph about Carroll. Her mouth dropped open and she looked up immediately. "Have you had any word from the Commander since you received this?" Lelliana held the letter out for Josephine.

Ellana shook her head. "No. I was hoping you'd heard something here."

Josephine cupped a hand to her mouth as she read the letter. "He may have walked willingly into a nest of Red Templars."

Lelliana stiffened. "We don't know that for sure. Carroll may have been scouting there, assuming the Inquisitor was there with the Commander."

Ellana hadn't thought about that explanation. She hoped it was true.

Josephine tapped her quill against her clipboard, looking over the letter again. "If that was the case, why haven't we heard anything? He wrote that he would keep you informed as he knew more details. The letter is dated five days ago."

Ellana closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She needed to think about this. "Where is Carroll now?"

Lelliana leaned against the war table. "He's been spotted heading to the Emerald Graves in an attempt to force you into a confrontation."

The silence was almost palpable as the three of them each turned over their options.

Ellana was first to come to a decision. "We have to take care of this Templar Lieutenant. We can do that and find out more about Cullen's situation all in one move. We ride for the Emerald Graves immediately to challenge Carroll."

Lelliana exhaled, nodding her consent while Josephine offered a forced smile.

Ellana was right. It was a very short stay in Skyhold this time.

* * *

They set out again later that day. With the news of the Red Templar Lieutenant and a possible threat to their Commander, there was no keeping Cassandra, Varric, and Cole from joining her again. Others were so intent on joining her, especially Solas and Iron Bull, that she half expected them to ride out with them as well. She was thankful to have such loyal friends in the Inquisition. In the end she had to ask Solas and Iron Bull to stay behind and wait for word from Cullen. She asked them to be ready to head to Minrathous if the need arose. She wanted a capable team in both places ready to move at any moment. She could not be in two places at once, no matter how much she wished it was possible.

They stopped to rest that night only briefly, though no one slept well under the circumstances. When they finally arrived, Harding was still at camp, ready with intelligence indicating Carroll's position and who he was working with.

The Lion's Pavilion was not far from camp. As they neared the location Harding had indicated on the map, Ellana slowed her horse. She crept to the edge of the forested portion of the wood before dismounting to peer into the clearing. There was a large stone structure, set just off the end of the road. Two sets of stairs on either side of it converged into one larger entryway at the front consisting of a pair of arched doorways. It was quite a beautiful structure, save for the four Red Templars she could see guarding it.

Ellana waved the other three members of her party forward, gesturing with raised eyebrows for Cassandra to charge in first. She didn't miss a beat. Before Ellana could draw a line in the air, indicating the direction for Cole to flank the Templars, Cassandra was on her way headlong into the fight. Her battle cry was a fearsome bellow that she was glad was not meant for her.

As three of the Templars engaged Cassandra, she noticed two in melee and one standing up on the stairs, raining arrows. Just as Cole was nearly in position on a warrior, Ellana changed her mind, gesturing for him to head up the steps to get behind the archer. As he did, Ellana focused her energy on the churning power in her body, focusing it to her fingertips. She released a powerful blast of frozen ice at the archer, effectively immobilizing him while Cole went to work with his daggers, each rip with his blade sending crimson droplets falling to the delicate tilework around him.

Varric had positioned himself just out of the fray, making use of a fallen log for cover. The archer and one of the warriors fell almost simultaneously. Finding himself rather outnumbered, the fourth Templar leapt down the stairs, cutting a vicious blow through the air that almost struck Cassandra's shoulder, had it not been for a well-placed pinning shot from Bianca.

This Templar was dressed differently than the others and seemed to be much more affected by the Red Lyrium. His Templar regalia was so infested with Red Lyrium growth, it was hard to tell where the armor stopped and the lyrium crystals began. Even from where Ellana stood several paces from the Templar, she could see his eyes were empty. Crimson pools of nothing.

This was the Lieutenant. Carroll.

Just as Ellana recognized him, Carroll turned to her, as if able to sense her attention. He shoved a boot into Cassandra's chest, who was slightly off balance to begin with having just dodged an axe from the other Templar, and was sent to the dirt. This left Carroll open to charge Ellana.

She managed to slow him with another cold spell, but he was practically on top of her before she got the spell off. She let the buzz of her mana course through her, fadestepping just out of reach of the Templar. She dodged him physically, but she was hit with the full force of a smite to her chest that sent her reeling over the same fallen log Varric had been using as cover.

Her limbs felt heavy, as though weighted by rocks and Carroll was approaching again. This time a twisted smile crossed his lips as he saw his opportunity. But he hadn't counted on Varric's ingenuity. The dwarf's deft hands had laid down a trap just in front of the log before the battle had ever begun. Carroll, intent on finishing what he'd started with the Inquisitor, put one foot squarely in the middle of it. The trap sprang, flinging him into the air, giving Varric time to help Ellana to a safe distance.

Meanwhile, Cole and Cassandra had taken care of the other Templar and were closing in on Carroll. As if sensing the tide of battle had turned, the Red Templar roared - the desperate wail of a caged animal -before bringing his sword down against Cassandra's so hard, she lost her grip on it and it clattered onto the ground.

Ellana could count on one hand the times she'd seen Cassandra lose her grip on her sword. The last was when Cassandra had been knocked unconscious by a giant. She and Dorian had dragged her out of the giant's way while Varric distracted it. They had only barely managed to escape.

This was not a giant, but the blow could have been dealt by one.

Cassandra herself looked shocked, stumbling backwards before she was able to regain her balance and unsheathe a dagger she kept in her waistband. Luckily she knew how to wield a shield better than anyone Ellana had ever seen, so even with just one dagger Ellana knew she could hold her own.

As Carroll looked back at Cassandra, Ellana saw her opening, a perfect window to throw a fiery blast at the Templar. She allowed the mana to pool within her, but it was as if only a tiny trickle of energy was left after the smite. She had never felt so drained. With no magic at her disposal, she pulled herself upright and charged the Templar. She still had her staff and with Carroll still engaged with Cassandra, he had left himself open. She knew having a blade on the end of her staff would come in handy, no matter how many times Vivienne had scoffed at her when she was assembling it.

Ellana closed the distance to Carrol quickly and before he was even aware of her proximity, she wrenched the bladed tip of her staff into his vulnerable side behind his chest plate. Carroll screamed, whirling to face her as he swung his sword in a great arc over his head. Ellana dodged the blow and Cassandra placed her dagger neatly into his neck. He sank to his knees, his blazing eyes seeming to lose their intensity as he slumped over onto his stomach. A sickening gurgle seemed to come from Carroll's mouth as he tried to speak.

"He will kill you." Ellana strained to understand each word as Carroll's lips refused to move. "It is only a matter of time."

Ellana scowled down at the dying Templar. "Corypheus will fall. Just as you have."

"Not Corypheus." Carroll sucked in a wheezy breath. "He will send Cullen first. Your precious Commander." The Templar managed a smirk, even as half his face lay in the dirt. "He will be the one to kill you and you won't have the heart to kill him first."

Cassandra knelt by the Templar, ready to slit his throat. "Do not listen to this madman. He spews bile."

Ellana waved Cassandra away. If this man had a hand in hurting Cullen in any way, she wanted to be the one to finish him. She ripped the edge of her staff out of the Templar and he gasped, curling into fetal position clutching the wound. Then she held the blade at his throat.

"Kill me. It won't change – " another breath rattled loudly in his lungs. "It won't change what Cullen has become. He will have no memory of you. He is one of us now."

"Enough!" Ellana barked as she shoved the blade through the soft flesh of his throat and the Red Templar was still.

Before Ellana had a chance to breathe, Cole was behind her, his voice calm as still water despite the bodies that littered the ground around them. "Commander with no memory. Commander with no dreams. Spells stealing thoughts. Spells stealing people. Replaced by Red Lyrium songs."

Ellana turned her attention immediately to Cole. "Did you see that from Carroll?"

Cole nodded from under the brim of his hat. "He has been with the Commander. His mind was filled with the song too."

Varric stepped to Ellana's side, placing Bianca on his shoulder. "The song of the Red Lyrium. It's enough to drive anyone mad. Sounds like Corypheus found a way to force Cullen to ingest it." Varric turned to Cole. "Did you say they took his memories?"

Cole looked at the dwarf. "There's a mage in Tevinter. Carroll was thinking about him. He did it. He did it to all the Templars that came."

"Is that kind of magic still practiced?" Cassandra's eyes were fierce.

Varric looked suddenly distant. "Yes."

Ellana knew Varric had some knowledge beyond theirs. "Varric. Have you seen this magic?"

"A little more of it than I'd like," he scrunched his nose, trying to make light of it, but his eyes gave away the seriousness of what he'd seen. "They used it on Fenris."

Cassandra perked up. "Hawke's lover?"

Varric nodded. "The same. You've heard the story, Seeker."

"Would anyone know about this magic that could help us?" Cassandra said.

"Possibly. Danarius is dead, but Fenris' sister, Varania, was almost an apprentice under him and does have his spellbook. I'll write to them, see if they have any ideas."

Ellana finally stood and they searched the corpses in silence. After several minutes they walked back to the horses.

Varric caught up to to Ellana. "Hey. You okay?"

Ellana spoke again. "We need to go after him."

But she was only speaking what the rest of them already knew.


	20. Slave

**Chapter 20**

_Cullen_

He woke to the sound of a songbird trilling just outside of his window. But this time he didn't cover his head with pillows to drown out the sound. This time his head wasn't pounding like it always did the day after a trip to the East Tower. This time Corvus had ensured him it would be different. It had been his last treatment. He was now free to fight for the Templar Order and he did feel the change. He was much more powerful now. He had started to feel the transformation, especially over the last few days. The aches and pains had been completely wiped away, replaced with passion and energy to hunt down those who would threaten peace in Thedas.

A knock on the door jarred him from his thoughts.

Cullen called through the closed door. "Come in."

It creaked open and Javan Corvus stepped inside, practically beaming.

"You are awake!" The mage crossed the room, settling in an armchair near the bed.

Cullen rolled himself to a sitting position. "Yes. I feel – well, I feel very good. No headache."

"That is welcome good news, especially after a day of so much tragedy." A shadow moved across his features.

Cullen was almost afraid to ask. With all of these treatments, he felt so out of touch. He hadn't heard much at all from the outside world since he'd been here. His life before was still a haze, parts and pieces peeking through the obscurity. "What happened?"

"You remember Carroll, do you not?" Corvus asked, head bowed.

Cullen leaned forward. "Of course. He was very helpful after my first few treatments. We had similar goals for the Templar Order."

"I hate to be the one to share this news." Corvus ran a hand through his hair, leaving his hand behind his head to massage his neck. He finally exhaled the words he was holding on to. "He is dead."

Cullen's throat felt thick when he spoke. "Was it the Inquisitor?" He spat the last title. "The false Herald?"

Corvus nodded. "I am afraid so. I just received word from my sources scouting the road. She and her companions are travelling the Imperial Highway, likely headed this way to finish the job of snuffing out your Order."

Cullen's head was spinning. He had just begun to understand where his place was. The Templar Order needed him again. They were being threatened by apostates and this Herald of Andraste. But she was no herald - just another heretic mage. But this mage was travelling Thedas wiping out Templars in an attempt to destroy the Order completely. Now she had killed one of the only people he'd met here. One of the few people he was able to remember.

"I'm going after her." He stated, feeling sure about something for the first time in the week since he'd arrived at Corvus' estate.

"Not blindly you're not." Corvus produced a neatly folded piece of parchment from an inner chest pocket. "Luckily, I have eyes on the road."

Cullen stared intently as Corvus unfolded the paper and began to read. "The Inquisitor was spotted this morning moving Northeast out of Orlais. They may be seeking help from the Champion of Kirkwall with a suspected meeting point somewhere in Nevarra."

"Is there any way to get to the Inquisitor before she enlists more help?" Cullen was confident in his abilities against one mage, but a whole party with a wide skill set would be more of a challenge.

A slow smile unfurled across Corvus' lips. "I appreciate your enthusiasm. And it appears we are thinking along the same lines." He produced a map of the Imperial Highway snaking through Orlais and the point at which it begins to cut North into Nevarra. "I believe if you can catch them before they reach Cumberland at the coast, you have a better chance of getting to her alone. If they are meeting allies from Kirkwall, they would likely meet at the docks."

"Shall I go alone? Or are there other Templars who would stand against her?"

"There are others, but they may get in your way. We've had spies on the Inquisitor for some time. She has certain habits she attends to while travelling. These may be of benefit to you, especially if you were to go after her alone."

Cullen cocked his head. "Alone?"

Corvus continued. "She always camps near moving water. She is in the habit of bathing before bedding down for the night. She also walks alone at sunrise, collecting herbs for natural remedies and poultices. If you tracked her alone and caught her by herself, you could use your Templar abilities and extract her without anyone catching on. And because of your – " Corvus stopped mid-sentence, pausing to consider his wording with a raised eyebrow. "Because of your  _history_ , she will likely not think you a threat until it is too late."

"Carroll had mentioned a past relationship I had with the Inquisitor." Cullen decided to admit what he knew, even if the knowledge was a bit embarrassing to him now. He could not imagine himself ever caring for someone who wanted to destroy who he was and what he stood for. "Is that the history you are speaking of?"

"It is the same." The mage leaned even closer in his chair. "You have a history with her that no one else does. She may hesitate before striking you down. That is why you will win while others have failed to bring her down. That is why Corypheus has chosen you to capture her and bring her back here as your prisoner. With her as collateral, we may be able to bring down the entire Inquisition. Peace will finally be within our grasp."

But Cullen still didn't understand why he couldn't remember the details of his relationship with this Inquisitor Ellana Lavellan. Why couldn't he remember the journey to Minrathous? Why couldn't he remember where he'd come from?

"I appreciate what you've done for me Corvus," Cullen paused.

Corvus wrinkled his eyebrows, sensing he wasn't finished. "But…"

"But… why can't I remember yet? I don't even remember where I was before coming to your estate."

Corvus stood up and laid a hand on his shoulder. "It will return, my friend. You must be patient. With each day, more that is empty will be filled. More that seems lost will be discovered."

Cullen nodded solemnly. What else could he say?

Corvus walked to the door before turning again to give one last direction. "You may leave as soon as you are ready. I will send your weapons up and you may borrow one of my mounts from the stables."

* * *

Cullen made good time travelling south on his own. His mount, a sturdy silver mare, proved to have both speed and stamina for a full day of riding. He had chosen to camp alone in a forested area off of the highway rather than pay for a bed. Corvus had supplied him with food and had offered a new set of Templar Armor. He'd politely declined, preferring the fit of the armor he'd brought along. He rather liked the faintly familiar scent of his fur lined mantle and the perfect snug fit of his own leather gloves. Corvus' offering felt too bulky across the shoulders and the fit of the gauntlets was a little loose.

After a dinner of dried meats and bread, he opened his bedroll, shaking it out and laying it down in the soft grass near his fire. It felt wonderful to be out of the estate. He'd begun to feel very confined within Corvus' walls as the days blended together. The weight of Carroll's death, the threatened Templar Order, and his responsibility to stop the Inquisitor felt somehow easier to bear while gazing at the vast expanse of stars above. He was not the first to gaze upon the stars seeking comfort. Nor would he be the last.

* * *

When Cullen stirred, the flames of his fire had died down, but the coals were still smoldering. The moon had risen in the night sky, casting its light over his modest camp. A flutter behind him caused him to startle. He sat up, searching for the cause of his interrupted sleep.

A raven with large sharp eyes stared back at him, holding a letter in its thick beak. It ruffled its wings once more and let out a throaty croak.

Cullen reached for the parchment and stood up groggily to add another piece of wood to the fire. The flames began to lap at the sides of the log, creating light to read by. Cullen rubbed his eyes before crouching by the fire to examine the letter.

_Cullen,_

_I hope this letter has reached you in good time. My sources have brought some useful information to me this evening. Your target is camped not a four hours' ride from where you lie. If my bird gets this message to you quickly, you may intercept her at dawn if you ride on. It will be your best chance of getting to her alone and before she is joined by more allies. Good luck._

_Your faithful supporter,_

_Javan Corvus_

He folded the letter and packed up camp as quickly as possible. It was quite unnerving that Corvus somehow knew exactly where he'd camped, despite Cullen's confidence that no one had seen him veer off of the highway. And how that bird had found him was a small miracle in itself.

Somehow though, it was also quite reassuring that Corvus had his people scouting around, allowing Cullen the best possible chance of successfully finding the Inquisitor alone. He supposed it was nice to have friends with resources.

After burying the coals of his fire, he rode on through the night, his path lit by moonlight.

* * *

Just before dawn, Cullen saw the faint plumes of smoke from a dwindling fire rising just to the east of the Highway. According to his maps, there were no settlements nearby. He'd guessed he had ridden close to four hours, so this could be the camp he was looking for.

He slowed his silver mare and dismounted, leading her to a tree out of sight from the highway. He crossed the road on foot, approaching the smoke as slowly as possible. He didn't need to get too close, just near enough to ensure that this was the Inquisitor's camp.

He didn't have to go far.

The symbol of the Inquisition was flown on several flags over the camp. Cullen could see them flying clearly, even through the leaves of the trees, the moonlight playing across them catching the edges of the fabric.

She would be here.

Cullen felt a rush of adrenaline. He heard his blood pumping in his own ears as he realized this was his chance. He could single-handedly cripple the Inquisition and save the Templar Order. All he needed to do was find the mage.

As if Andraste herself had heard him, the flaps of the nearest tent were disturbed, and a figure emerged into the inky blue light of dawn. An elf. Slight of figure and fully dressed to take on the day, wearing mage armor and carrying a staff. She had a satchel slung across her shoulder, likely going out to pick herbs just as Corvus had said.

The heretic mage rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she scanned the camp. Cullen was far away in the shadows and hidden safely behind a large tree, fairly certain that he could not be seen.

She stirred the coals in their camp fire and placed another log in the middle of it. She stared at it for a moment before setting off in the opposite direction.

He trailed her at quite a distance, but since she had no reason to cover her tracks, she proved easy to follow. She ultimately ventured toward a lazy stream a good distance from her camp. The sun was rising now and the tall reeds glimmered in the morning sun as the breeze sent them shivering. The mage crouched at the water's edge over and over, retrieving some particularly thin stalks growing in bunches along the banks of the stream.

Cullen crept closer. He was certain that she was far enough away from camp to not alert the rest of her party in case there was a struggle. He thought she'd even looped around so much that they were closer to his horse than to her camp now, a lucky turn of events. All he had to do was ensure that her magic would be of no use. If he managed that, her slight frame would be no match against his larger body in a physical fight. He could simply knock her out and drag her back to his horse and ride back to Corvus' estate. Cullen was sure Corvus' people would make themselves useful in some way once he'd secured the Inquisitor.

He took another step closer and nearly cursed as a twig snapped loudly under his heavy boot.

The mage's head whipped around and her eyes locked on his. To his surprise, a small smile started at the corners of her lips and continued unfolding into a wide grin. She took a few steps toward him before charging at him full speed, arms open and yelling his name.

Cullen narrowed his eyes. He reached out to the energy around him, sensing the presence of her mana. A surge of power blasted through him and into the heretic mage, sending her flying against a nearby tree trunk, shocked and breathless.

He took several steps forward and looked down at her. She was panting and her face was contorted in shock.

"Hello Inquisitor."


	21. Objective

**Chapter 21**

_Ellana_

She could not believe he was standing in front of her. She had been so worried he wouldn't remember her after what Carroll had said, but there he was. He'd found her.

She should have been cautious, but all of that was lost when he was finally this close to her. His golden hair caught the morning light, creating an aura of warmth about him. He was wearing the same familiar armor and he wore the same serious expression he often did when he was worried.

Ellana ran to him. She couldn't help it -it was too easy and he was so close.

She didn't get very far before she realized it was a terrible decision. It was his eyes. They were empty and distant and he didn't reach out to embrace her as she got closer. Before she even knew what had happened, Ellana was thrown against the trunk of a nearby tree. She heard her body hit - a thick sound like a sack full of grain falling against something hard.

She tried to push herself up to sit, but found herself breathless. Her arms were heavy and her fingers tingled. What could have flung her backward so violently? She hadn't seen any traps nearby and Cullen hadn't moved a muscle.

Ellana rubbed her temples, trying to catch her breath.

"Hello Inquisitor." It was Cullen's voice, but it was wrong. Why was he calling her that? Why wasn't he helping her?

She looked from his boots up to his face and met his eyes. Up close he looked… different. His eyes, sweet honey brown before, were dull and lifeless. His lips were a firm line and his jaw was set tensely. His skin seemed pallid, contrasting with the dark purple bags under his eyes. His armor emanated a strange pulsing energy – it almost looked like red lyrium on his chest plate. She did not want to believe it.

This was not her Cullen.

She shook her head. Carroll could not have been telling the truth could he? It was supposed to be a lie meant to distract her. "Cullen?" Her voice came out in a raspy moan. Whatever had hit her had taken the breath right out of her.

He didn't answer. He stooped to lift her roughly by the elbow without a word.

Ellana shrugged his hand off. "Stop it Cullen. What is this?"

He glared fiercely down at her. "This is you finally answering for your crimes, Inquisitor." He grabbed her again and this time she was sure his grip would leave bruises on her upper arm.

It took all of her strength to shrug him off a second time. "What are you talking about?"

Ellana grabbed for the staff at her back, wanting to show him that she meant business, but Cullen had already drawn his sword in a blur of motion. He held the cold metal blade against the skin of her neck. It was the jolt she needed to finally see the reality of the situation. This was really happening. Cullen was not here. He had been replaced by a stranger and she was about to be killed by him.

Ellana summoned all of the mana she could to prepare to stun him, but a familiar emptiness was there instead. Cullen had silenced her just as Carroll had back in the Emerald Graves. But this time she didn't have friends to turn to. She was alone and it was at least a twenty minute walk to camp.

In one swift motion, she kneed Cullen in the groin and leaned away from his blade. She was able to wrench one arm from his grasp and gain enough momentum to swing her staff across the back of his head. He cried out with the blow, but as she turned to run, she found herself on the ground a second time, not knowing what had struck her this time.

She screamed, trying to push herself up, but he was already there. Cullen flipped her onto her back, pinning her arms at her sides, pressing his weight against her. As his familiar scent washed over her, Ellana's body nearly relaxed into his. But with her adrenaline still pumping from the fight, her body was confused. The way he felt against her brought back some very personal sensations. When his eyes softened briefly, she wondered if he felt it too. But maybe it had been just the shadows of the trees over his face, because the expression was gone as quickly as it came and he was angry again. And instantly, her sense of self-preservation won out. This wasn't Cullen. Carroll had said he wouldn't remember his feelings. Maybe he had been right.

Whatever was going on with Cullen's memory, she could not allow him to kill her here in the woods. If she couldn't power her way out of this, she had to make him remember.

"Cullen. This isn't you. Don't you remember?"

His eyebrows hung low over his eyes, still narrowed. Her words had no effect. She had to do better than that.

She tried wriggling her arms free, but she was too drained now after the second assault she'd taken from him. Her lack of mana weighed heavily on her, pulling her closer to unconsciousness, making her body crave sleep to replenish.

Ellana closed her eyes and bit her lip before taking a deep breath. She needed to stay in control. "Cullen, please. You told me you loved me." She tried to find his eyes to will the truth into his mind somehow. "And I love you." She made her voice as earnest as possible, but with her life being threatened and her shoulder blades grinding into the sharp roots and rocks of the forest floor below, it proved to be a difficult task.

Despite all of her effort, Cullen ignored her again. He lifted her arms and pinned them together over her head with one hand, freeing his other hand to search for something in the pockets of his armor. She felt so helpless that he could hold her like this with just one hand, but she was drained and he had always been physically stronger, even at her best. There was no choice but to talk her way out of this now.

Ellana tried to steady her voice as she spoke. "Look in the inner pocket of my coat just in front of my heart and see what I keep there. If you don't believe me, maybe you will believe a letter you wrote yourself only a week ago."

But Cullen was focused on his own task. He finally found what he was looking for in his own armor, pulling out a rope and forcing her into a sitting position. He tied her hands behind her back, so tight she thought she would lose feeling in her hands.

When he was finished securing her hands, he finally looked at her. "Corvus said you would use any means necessary to deceive me."

Ellana was becoming desperate now. "Corvus would say anything to turn you against me! You went to him for help with your lyrium addiction and he wiped away your memories. Memories of you and of your role as the Commander of the Inquisition!"

But the more emotional Ellana got, she could see Cullen slipping farther away into himself and his thoughts. She still was not reaching him. He practically growled his response. "Enough!"

Ellana felt her throat tighten and she swallowed the lump that was forming there. She leaned toward him. "Look at me for a moment." She was almost surprised when he complied easily. "Don't you feel anything when you look at me?"

He did gaze at her for a moment, but his eyes remained distant – unreachable. "I feel a headache forming." His voice was a harsh monotone, some other man was responding.

And with that he retrieved a piece of cloth and tied it around her mouth, making it clear that he wanted no further discussion.

He hoisted her up onto her feet, but her legs buckled almost immediately. Whatever he had done to her, it was unlike anything she'd ever experienced. She'd been silenced before by other mages. Carroll had sent a very strong smite directly at her in the Emerald Graves. But this was not like those times. Her mana was drained, yes. But so was her body.

Cullen as a Red Templar. The thought send a chill through her entire body.

He forced her to stand once more and this time she managed a half dozen steps before her weak body crumpled and the dizziness claimed her again.

With a noisy sigh, Cullen hoisted her onto his shoulder and began to carry her. She wanted to kick him. She wanted to fight for his sake and hers. But even her own will, her own desire to fight now seemed to have drained from her.

Her body bobbed weakly with each of Cullen's steps as she lay across his shoulder. They were walking in the opposite direction of camp now. She would sometimes gather herbs for an hour in the morning, so no one would suspect she was missing for quite a while. Once they did, it would likely be too late.

After several silent minutes, Cullen finally spoke, though it seemed more to himself than to her. "We will see what Corvus has to say about you when we get you back to Minrathous."

Ellana tried again to roll off of his shoulder, throwing her weight to make him lose his balance, but her strongest effort resulted in almost no change to the pace of his stride. He merely readjusted her, as though he was carrying a heavy log to a fire.

But even that small effort took a great deal of energy out of her. Her already limp body felt almost disconnected from her thoughts now. As she bobbed up and down with his steps, her head was spinning. She tried to clench her fists to anchor her mind, but it proved to be too difficult a task. As Cullen carried her farther away from help, she nodded off, finally succumbing to the roiling fog of unconsciousness.


	22. Pensive

**Chapter 22**

_Cullen_

He rode all day stopping only to water his horse. He'd placed the Inquisitor in front of him on the saddle, riding behind her. It would look to other travelers like they were just another couple journeying to the next town this way. She was no longer gagged - he hadn't needed it with her being in and out of consciousness most of the day. At this moment she was slumped against his chest, likely looking like just another exhausted immigrant.

He had greatly underestimated the strength of his own Templar abilities. After Corvus' treatments he was much more powerful, especially against a mage and she was feeling the effects.

They were only just through the silent plains at the point where the Imperial Highway veered northwest toward the west side of the Nocen Sea. With the weight of two people on his horse's back the journey back to Minrathous was taking longer than expected. The shadows from the thin strands of trees off to his left were growing longer, now completely covering the dusty road. They would need to stop for the night.

Cullen was very wary of spending any time alone with the Inquisitor. With Corvus' warning about her history of deception and his knowledge of some past relationship with her, he did not feel comfortable. His discomfort had grown when he had forced himself upon her in order to tie her arms and remove her weapon. She hadn't fought with everything she had. Cullen had felt her relax under him, giving him pause. There was familiarity in her eyes and in her smell, but he had to protect himself from that. Corvus had warned him that she would use that past against him. Whatever had happened between them before had happened in another life. She was now a heretic - an apostate puppeteer orchestrating the destruction of his Order and he would not allow her to influence him, past relationship or not.

The Inquisitor stirred again, groaning as she straightened herself. She did not speak but stayed silent as he watched the sun sink lower near the horizon. The trees were becoming thicker now that they were out of the plains. He wanted to ride a few more miles. If he remembered correctly, the trees would become denser as they approached several streams just to the north. They would offer more cover for a camp. Cullen wasn't sure how long the Inquisitor would last without a meal and a real night's rest after the injuries she'd sustained.

"We will make camp soon."

If she heard him, she did not acknowledge it.

He rode on for another few minutes until he found a flat, heavily wooded stretch of road. He turned off the main highway, leading the horse for about ten minutes off of the path. He had to be sure that their camp wouldn't be visited by bandits, thieves, or allies of the Inquisition searching for the mage.

He climbed off his silver mare first and then helped her down from the saddle. She was awake now, though she still felt limp as she steadied herself against him.

Her eyes found his between the messy strands of hair that covered most of her face. She did not look angry or even afraid, which struck him as unusual given her current state.

"If we are to bed down for the night, you must promise me you will read the letter you wrote to me a little more than a week ago." Her voice was soft, but determined. She placed a hand lightly on his upper arm, partly for balance, but tenderly to show something more. "I am obviously no threat to you like this. It would do no harm to hear your own thoughts from just before your treatments with Corvus."

Cullen still feared her deception, but placating the mage might be the more intelligent course of action. If he wanted a peaceful night, he should choose his battles carefully.

"Very well."

Her eyes widened and a hint of a smile pulled at the corner of her lips. The Inquisitor reached inside the breast pocket of her mage armor, retrieving an envelope. She pressed it into his palm and looked up expectantly.

Cullen stared back. "I will read it once we have finished preparing camp."

He tucked the envelope into his pocket and reached out with his senses, trying to get a feel for the remaining power the mage controlled. If she had some trick planned, he wanted to see it coming. It did not take him long to feel that she was still starved of mana - that was painfully obvious by her face, her posture, and the lack of energy surrounding her. He had practically felt a buzzing around her back by the stream this morning, now the air around her was stagnant. There was no magic attack coming any time soon.

Cullen felt his shoulders relax. He'd been unconsciously tense since he'd dismounted. He unpacked his bedroll, tent, and bag of provisions and gestured for the mage to help him as he needed it. If he had been alone the tent would be unnecessary, but with a prisoner it would make it easier to keep an eye on her. She took twice as long to secure the corners of the tent as she kept stumbling and she was no help in gathering wood for a fire, but he kept her close anyway to ensure she wouldn't try to escape. She must have known she wouldn't get far, as she made no attempt to stray from camp.

After camp had been made, the two travelers leaned against a downed log, soaking in the heat of the fire as they ate the last of Cullen's dried meat and loaf of bread from his sack of provisions. It was only moments after she'd finished her meal before the Inquisitor began to drift off. Her head lay awkwardly against her shoulder and Cullen wondered how she could possibly sleep like that, but her noisy breathing gave her away. He could not believe that it had been more than twelve hours since he used his Templar abilities on the mage and she was still suffering their effects.

Cullen stared into the fire listening to the loud crackles and then watching the stray embers spark, launching into the night sky. The trees around him came to life with howls and hoots as the nocturnal creatures of the forest rose to meet the moon.

He stole one more glance at the mage who was still slumped awkwardly onto the log before reaching for the envelope in his pocket. He wasn't sure what he expected to find in it and he wasn't completely sure why he was looking at it in the first place. He had told himself to take the letter as a gesture to calm the mage, never really intending to read it.

He opened the envelope and removed a folded parchment within.

_Dearest Ellana,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. We arrived at House Corvus today. It is larger and more lavish than anything I've seen since the Winter Palace. Javan Corvus seems friendly enough and he seems to be trying to keep the process behind these treatments as transparent as possible. Dorian and I have our doubts, however, about the type of magic involved. Dorian mentioned the class of magic sounded similar to that used by Danarius on his slaves to wipe away memories. Corvus seems to be using it to wipe away the symptoms of withdrawal in a similar manner. I worry about the side effects. Tomorrow, Dorian meets with Corvus to review his spellbook. At that time, I should be able to make a decision on whether this is something I want to pursue. I will keep you informed as I know more. If we decide to stay to begin this process, Corvus estimates a seven day course._

_Another thing that worries me. Carroll is here, an ex-Templar who was stationed with me at Ferelden's Circle. It's not his presence that makes me anxious, but his manner. We talked only briefly, but he seemed very distant. Broken somehow. I know I haven't seen the man in years, but he seems… changed._

_I hope this letter doesn't worry you (as it seems I'm doing too much of that lately). Maker knows I worry for you. I pray constantly for your safe return. I cannot wait to have you back in my arms, safe and warm. And forget about debriefing Lelliana first… even if she insists. You will be reporting to my office immediately following your arrival at Skyhold._

_Yours Always,_

_Cullen_

He read the letter again and again. Looking for holes. Searching for an explanation. Even an absolute master of deception would struggle to fill in the gaps of his own memories in such a way. And the date on the letter matched up - it had only been written last week. One test of its legitimacy remained.

Cullen rose from where he'd sat before the fire. He did not have a quill in his bag, but he knew he could improvise. He found a long, thin stick and began writing into the dirt. He did not look back at the letter, but allowed his hand to flow as it naturally would.

_Dearest Ellana_

_Yours Always_

_Cullen_

Though much cruder drawn in the dirt, it was plain to see. The curl on the uppercase 'D' and the low point flowing to a curved arch on the 'Y' were the same. Even the forward slant and uphill climb of the script showed itself in the dirt. There was no mistaking that this was the same handwriting.

Could someone have forged his handwriting to incriminate Corvus?

It seemed very unlikely that the Inquisitor had known he was coming and planted a fake letter on her person just in case. If she knew he was coming, why not just kill him outright?

Or could she be telling the truth? Was this really his lover that he had punished so cold heartedly? He had forced all of the magic out of her and made her ride for hours as she barely clung to life. Cullen pressed his hands against his temples, willing his thoughts to slow down and the truth to show itself.

He picked up the envelope, ready to replace the folded parchment inside but paused. There was too much weight at the corner of the envelope. There was something else inside.

He tipped it into his hand and a large silver coin slipped out into his palm. The camp in the forest began to melt away as he was swept away into a memory.

_Suddenly, he was back home at the lake in Honnleath. His brother was there embracing him. Cullen held onto his brother tightly, but still clenched in his fist, his brother's last gift to him. The coin. When his brother pulled away, he slapped him on the back playfully one last time._

" _Good luck, little brother. You would have made a crappy farmer anyway."_

_Cullen blinked back tears as he watched his brother walk the opposite way on the dock. The weight of the coin was reassuring. He stood flipping it between two fingers before he watched his brother slip away in the mist. He squeezed the coin once more before tucking it safely into his pocket._

As the memory faded, Cullen continued to stare at the coin in his own hand glinting in the firelight. If this was mere deception, how had the Inquisitor come to hold onto something of his that was so personal? Why hadn't Cullen been able to remember his family before tonight?

There were so many questions, but the fire was dying down and he should either add more wood or get the mage inside and under some warm bedding. He looked down at her delicate features, bruised from their earlier tussle in the woods. A wave of needling guilt forced him to look away. He just wanted to remember. One way or another, he prayed to the Maker for some sort of guidance. Was this woman his most hated enemy or his greatest ally?

He was answered only by the rustle of leaves as a light breeze passed through the canopy overhead. He stood up and knelt by Ellana's side, cradling her wilted body before lifting her into the tent. He was much more careful this time when moving her, placing her gently on his bedroll. She let out a labored breath before settling into his fur mantle he'd used as a pillow on the road.

He tied a loose rope around both of their ankles, he would feel her if she tried to walk over him to unbutton the tent flap. Even with these new revelations, he had to be smart about this. There was still a chance this was all an elaborate hoax and that she was everything Corvus had warned him about.

Cullen could not sleep right away. He experienced the memory of his brother again, trying to remember how Ellana could have come to keep his coin. He thought about the letter. Magic that could erase memories. His bad feelings about Carroll. Dorian. He remembered Dorian, but where was he now?

By the time he drifted off, he had many more questions than answers.


	23. Motive

**Author's Note:** I have to apologize for the long delay in getting the next chapter to you. It has been one crazy thing after another for my family in 2015. Between this pregnancy and my mom breaking her back, free time has been hard to come by. Thank you for being patient and for all the wonderful feedback on this story. I honestly would have given up long ago if not for the words of encouragement

**Chapter 23**

_Ellana_

She had to force her eyes open, as they seemed to be glued together. Whatever Cullen had done to her yesterday, the effects were certainly going to linger. Though her head didn't throb with quite the intensity it had yesterday, her thoughts were still hazy and her arms and legs felt heavy with exhaustion.

The birds flitting around in the trees nearby seemed perturbed that Cullen had chosen their particular part of the forest for a camp. Their squawks and screeches robbed the early morning of its usual peace. The shadows of the trees danced over the eastern side of the tent as the sun began to rise. Ellana slowly turned to where Cullen lay beside her. He did not seem to know she was awake. He was turning the coin he'd given her over and over in between his fingers as he stared blankly at it. He had read the letter then. That was at least a start.

Cullen shifted. He placed the coin in his pocket and sat up. "Good morning."

"Good morning," she answered, trying to find a smile. "I see you read the letter."

"I did." He paused, his tone very businesslike. "Do you feel well enough to continue our trip?"

Ellana felt her stomach wrench. Did he still plan to continue on to Minrathous? Was he still going to give her to Corvus. "So, you… you did not believe what was written?"

"I must be absolutely sure about the truth of what was written before I alter my plans."

His answer knocked the wind right out of her. It was a moment before she could find the words to speak. "But if you aren't sure, why take me to Corvus? There will be no chance of leaving if you do manage to discover the truth there. He will kill us both."

"I need to speak with Dorian."

"But why don't you just…" Ellana stopped herself with a sigh.

She knew there would be no other way for Cullen to really understand what Corvus had done to him aside from getting his memory back altogether. But that didn't seem possible without the help of Varania, Fenris' sister who had experience with Tevinter magic of this kind. Thanks to Varric's influence, she had agreed to meet them along the coast and then they all planned to go up to Minrathous together. Now Ellana had no idea what would happen and how she could convince Cullen to seek out Varania.

"There is another way." Ellana tried to keep the panic from her voice. "What they did to your memory may be reversible."

Cullen shook his head forcefully. "No more magic."

He removed the rope that Ellana guessed was to keep her from running off, stood up, and unfastened the tent ties before turning back to her. "According to the letter you say I wrote to you last week, Dorian accompanied me to see Javan Corvus. In fact, it said Dorian was going to review Corvus' spellbook." Cullen gestured for Ellana to hand him the bedroll. "If Dorian is still there, he may know something. He will either give me a different story or be able to corroborate yours. Either way, I see no other choice."

"What if he isn't even there? If he managed to escape…"

"Then I will find another way," Cullen interrupted.

Though the letter had softened his manner substantially, his tone was sharp on his last words. He had always been stubborn to a fault. That had not changed after he'd lost his memories.

When Cullen finished rolling the tent and bedroll and tucking them into his horse's pack, he offered her a piece of an apple and sat on the log by remnants of their fire.

"Please sit down." Cullen patted the log next to him.

Ellana narrowed her eyes at him, but did as he asked.

"Now sit with your back against the log."

She cocked her head to the side, not sure that she had heard him right.

"Please. It will be easier this way."

Not knowing what he could possibly be talking about, she began to lower herself to the ground in front of the downed tree. But before she even felt the earth beneath her, she sensed a swirling energy around her and she was pushed against the log, all the breath forced from her chest.

Before she'd fully recovered her senses, Cullen stood up. "I'm sorry for that. I just do not see any other way."

Ellana could not believe he had cast another smite directly at her. Her mana hadn't even recovered fully. In fact she'd only felt a slight glimmer of magic this morning and even that wasn't enough to power any ability. Now there was nothing again and she felt just as terrible as she had yesterday.

She tried to stand to face him, but her trembling legs would not hold her weight. She tightened her fists and bit her lower lip, trying to retain her composure before speaking. "You could have warned me."

"I did have you sit down. Besides, if I'd warned you, you would have tried to convince me not to do it. I must take whatever precautions I see fit."

"Even if that means killing me?"

Cullen blew air between his lips. "A few smites won't kill you."

Ellana couldn't tell if this was meant to be a joke as his face was deathly serious as he continued packing his horse. She was disappointed that the letter didn't seem to have the effect she'd hoped for and now she was completely out of ideas.

As Cullen strapped on the outer pieces of his armor, she could clearly see the red lyrium embedded in his chestpiece. She wondered how much his mind had been poisoned by the substance. She hoped it was early enough to be helped. She'd heard stories of Varric's brother Bartrand who had been exposed and gradually poisoned to insanity by red lyrium. Then there was Knight Commander Meredith who had been corrupted by it. Maybe there was something in Corvus' spellbook that could help. Maybe Varric knew something, or Varania, or Dorian.

There were so many maybes and very few real options.

Cullen tied the last straps on his chestplate and hoisted her onto his mount. He sat behind her again as they rode on to the city of Minrathous.

They rode for the majority of the day. Though they spoke very little, it was obvious that Cullen was allowing for more breaks to rest than he had yesterday. He asked how she was feeling several times and did not press them forward when he felt her lean more heavily against him with exhaustion. He offered more water and even allowed her to lie down for a small rest by a cool stream in the afternoon.

She tried several times to spark something between them – placing a hand gently on his as they rode, leaning in closer than she needed to – but he was all business. He gently replaced her hand on her lap or scooted back in the saddle to avoid the contact. He would not be swayed before finding proof that she was telling the truth.

As they neared the gates of House Corvus her legs had begun to cramp with the continued effort of holding onto the sides of the horse. She was tired and her muscles ached with the long ride and with the effects of Cullen's abilities. She was used to travelling, but not without her strength and mana.

Cullen's voice barked an order from behind her. "Give me your hands."

"Why?"

"I've trusted you today without tying your hands, but the guards at House Corvus will be suspicious if we don't keep up appearances."

He fastened her hands behind her quickly and silently and they continued down the dusty path to the iron gates at the front of the mansion. It was late, which was likely part of the plan. They could slip into the grounds without too much commotion at this hour. As they approached, the guards at the gate recognized Cullen right away and one of them stepped forward. "Shall we wake Lord Corvus?"

"No need," Cullen replied coolly. "I will take this prisoner straight to the dungeons and we can discuss the matter further over breakfast."

The guards seemed satisfied and Cullen dismounted. He helped her down from the saddle and then took his personal items from the horse's packs and handed the reins over to the guard who had spoken earlier.

Cullen thanked him and walked to the entryway with the remaining guard. He opened the huge main door at the entrance and allowed them to pass. He shut the door behind them, obviously trusting Cullen to find his way around. Ellana stole a glance at Cullen, who hadn't spoken much all day. She wished she had some idea about what he was thinking. Did he believe her or not? What was he really planning to do?

They quietly passed the ornately framed portraits lining the main hall and Ellana couldn't help but gawk at the architecture of the steeply curved ceilings. They were far from Ferelden now. The only sound was the clink of Cullen's armor as he walked and the sounds of their boots on the wooden flooring.

It must have been later than Ellana thought, as they didn't encounter any servants until they had walked almost to the end of what looked like the main hall. A waifish girl, no more than sixteen saw them coming and flitted quickly around a corner holding a pile of linens. She was the last person they encountered until they had descended into the dungeons.

Ellana hadn't ever considered what a large manor like House Corvus would need with a dungeon. She imagined most wealthy Tevinters getting together to wine and dine each other and discuss politics and gripe about the difficulty of finding good servants. She couldn't imagine what Corvus would need a dungeon for.

As Cullen opened the door at the end of the hallway, her curiosity won. "How did you know there were dungeons? Have you been here?"

"Corvus mentioned the dungeons. He never showed me where they were, but this is one of only a few doors he did not include on his tour of the house. I discovered what was behind the others by accident, so I can only guess this is the dungeon."

They descended several steps and the air grew dank and darker.

Ellana wrinkled her nose. "Smells like a dungeon at least."

Cullen nodded in agreement.

Once at the bottom of the stairs, the dim light of the single torch in the room lit the bars of several individual cells. They walked together past an empty cell and one with a sleeping body inside. Cullen searched the back wall for something, finally retrieving a key.

He really did plan to lock her up. Ellana had no mana to resist and nothing left to say that hadn't already been said. There was no choice but to go along with him. Resisting would not help prove her innocence.

He gave her a hard look. "You'll have to wait here while I find Dorian."

Ellana tenderly touched the back of his neck and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "I hope you find what you need."

The keys clattered to the stone floor and Cullen fumbled to retrieve them. He found a tighter grip on them and swallowed hard as he unlocked an empty cell. It groaned open and he waved an uncomfortable hand toward the bench at the back. He did not make eye contact before he turned the lock behind her.

Suddenly, a laugh echoed around them and a shadowy figure rose from the darkened cell next door.


	24. Weave

Talk about the longest break in story-writing history. Two and a half years later and I finally come crawling back to finish this story. But I couldn't leave it undone. I would think about it periodically and knew I'd finish at some point, but life kept getting in the way. So here I am! I apologize to anyone who was reading it and never got that closure. The good news was I managed to write a few of my own novels in that time, so things are progressing with my own writing. The bad news is that I may not have as great a hold on the story/lore of Dragon Age as I did a few years ago, but I still remember the characters like old friends who are back for a visit. So, sorry it's been a long time coming, but enjoy!

**Chapter 24**

_Dorian_

His laugh echoed around him, the stone walls amplifying the sound. He reflexively covered his ears. It had been so long since he'd heard anything louder than a whisper, the sound hurt almost as much as the hunger pangs in his gut.

Before Dorian allowed Cullen to make an unfortunate lyrium-influenced decision regarding his own destiny, Dorian decided to speak. "Either this is Cullen's new risqué method of spicing up your bedroom escapades or this whole red lyrium thing has gone to his head."

Even in the darkness of his cell, the look Ellana shot him could have frozen a bronto mid-charge.

"Oh relax." Dorian had to remind himself to do the same. "Good old Dorian is here to save you both."

Cullen looked as though he'd taken a drink of sour milk and Ellana narrowed her eyes, likely curious about how Dorian could possibly help while locked up.

Cullen took a step toward him, eyes unblinking from the other side of the bars. "Speak."

Dorian straightened his stinking robes - trying to maintain some semblance of dignity in this filthy pit was no easy task. "I was getting to that."

"Please tell me you know a cure." Ellana drawled the first word, the closest thing to begging he'd ever heard from her. She must have had a rough few days.

"No." Dorian shook his head. He'd love to play the hero, but this time it had been Varric and his friends to the rescue. "But I know someone who does."

Cullen took a step closer, reaching out to hold onto the cold iron. "A cure for what?" Cullen's fists were white at the knuckles, gripping the bars tightly.

"A cure for your newfound reliance on red lyrium of course. Nasty stuff." Dorian wrinkled his nose. "It makes you do things you normally wouldn't. Like lock up the woman you love and hand her over to a crazed servant of Corypheus who wants her dead."

Cullen looked pained. "I don't remember. This is too much." His voice was just above a whisper.

So Ellana had at least managed to convince Cullen that she was not the enemy. Otherwise, he'd have locked her up and been upstairs already. No need to stay around and chat with the mother of all that was impure in this world.

Ellana's melodic voice echoed off the stone walls. "How did you find a cure? Even Varric wasn't exactly sure what could be done and he has a lot of experience with the stuff."

Dorian nodded. "Yes he does. It happens to have been a friend of his who plans to help him."

Ellana's voice was getting louder and her pitch was rising. "How could you know anything way down here?"

Dorian twisted his mustache. "You have friends in all the right places, my dear Herald."

Cullen was holding his temples now. He lifted his head, locking eyes with his. "Tell me how you ended up down here."

Dorian let out a breath. "We came to House Corvus for help with your lyrium addiction. Unfortunately Corypheus sent Samson here first. He used red lyrium along with some dangerous magic that obviously affected your memories. They somehow twisted your will to align with their plans. And now, here we are in these lovely quarters having this fascinating discussion in the middle of the night."

As if the timing had been rehearsed, the door to the dungeon slowly creeped open. Dorian saw Ellana jump back into the shadows of her cell as Cullen puffed out his chest trying to appear authoritative once again.

Light footfalls were the only sound for several moments, before a breathy voice was heard. "It looks like I was just in time."

Ellana's voice came in a short bark. "Who are you?"

"I'm a friend of Varric's. My name is Varania."

Ellana took a step forward. "Varania?" She pressed her eyelids closed, shaking her head. "How is that possible? We were on our way to meet you, but I-"

"I know. Ravens are faster than horses." Varania smiled and closed the space between her and Cullen. "I've been researching here in Tevinter for the past few months." She looked at Cullen. "You chose a convenient time to be poisoned with red lyrium." She stretched out her arm, palm face up expecting Cullen to hand over the keys to their cells.

Dorian wasn't sure if Cullen would give them up. His face was as hard as the stone floor of the dungeon. Surprisingly, he passed the keys to the elf mage. Cullen must be getting some sort of memory back, either that or he was just so confused he'd given up.

The lock gave a satisfied clunk as Varania turned the key into his cell door. Dorian pressed his eyes together, trying to remain calm. He had visualized a thousand different scenarios over the last few nights and all of them had ended with his eventual death from starvation in this filthy chamber. When Varania arrived and explained the situation to him a few hours ago, he thought it was a sick joke of Corvus'. She'd had to tell several personal stories that only Varric could know to prove to Dorian that Varania could really be trusted.

When Ellana's cell door creaked open, her relief was visible. "I do have one question." More questions were likely bubbling around in her mind, though she only acknowledged the one. "How did you manage to get inside with all the guards patrolling the entrances to the estate?"

Answering the question over her shoulder, Varania led the way to the stairs. "It helps to be an elf. As a servant returning from a master's errand, I can enter almost anywhere."

Ellana asked the next question that he was ready to ask himself. "Did you see Corvus?"

She shook her head.

They needed to move. Corvus could come to check on him anytime, especially once the guards reported Cullen had returned. Dorian appreciated the elf's idea to disguise herself as a servant, but he wondered how they could travel anywhere in the manor as a foursome. "House Corvus might fall for your ruse, but I am unfortunately rather recognizable."

Cullen stepped back, pressing his hands to his forehead. "I am not going anywhere. I have to think. I…"

His voice trailed off into a choked sort of sound very uncharacteristic of the commander. Before Dorian had time to formulate a plan, Ellana was moving toward him. "There's no time." She put a hand on his arm. "You must remember. The coin. The letter. You said once we found Dorian, if he explained everything…" Ellana gestured with her chin in his direction. "Well there he is, the only mage in Thedas who can still be cocky after going more than a week without bathing."

Dorian glared at her from under lowered brows. "I beg your pardon, but I have a natural scent that many find to be irresistible."

"Well, at least this swarm of flies would agree with you," Ellana waved the air, keeping the invisible flies as bay.

He snorted and Ellana glanced up at Cullen, her eyebrows raised in expectation. Dorian wished as much as she did that their humor might break through some wall, open some memory. But Cullen only stared back, his lips set in a frustratingly tight line and his eyes, unrelenting.

When the silence stretched too long, Varania finally spoke. "I may be able to help." She moved toward Cullen, her red hair glinting in the torchlight as she reached her arms out toward his face.

"What are you doing?" Cullen demanded.

"Please. One moment and I promise you will see."

Dorian watched Cullen's hands curl into fists, watched his shoulders rise with the tension flooding his body. He wouldn't let her near. He was going to attack her.

But then, Ellana's touch came. She only reached for his hand, taking it between both of hers. She looked up at him, those wide eyes filled with so many promises. It was sickening really. Sickening how perfect her love was. Even here, the light for Cullen shone in her eyes, even when the commander was at his worst, that light in her eyes could not be extinguished. And Dorian wasn't the only one who'd seen it.

"You have thirty seconds," Cullen said, his voice tight as a bow string. But Ellana's touch had definitely affected him. His shoulders relaxed as he heaved a sigh and he bowed his head, a silent surrender to whatever magic Varania wanted to try.

Varania, who'd stopped an arm's length away finished her approach until she stood just before Cullen. "We do not have time for the entire process, but I believe I can show you something. A glimpse of your life. I have discovered that magic cannot erase memories; it can only scramble them until they are meaningless. But the body remembers and healing magic can find the trace of what once was."

She pressed her fingers to the commander's temples.

He loosed another noisy breath and then Varania was chanting. An unfamiliar spell, but still, Dorian appreciated that it was Tevinter she was speaking. Was it Tevinter? It carried the same syllables, the same sounds, the same lilting upward intonation, but this... this was something older. Something much older.

As she spoke, Dorian felt the unmistakable need to be somewhere else. There was a palpable power in the words.

Varania's chant lasted what felt like much longer than thirty seconds. Her voice was a monotonous drone of sounds bleeding together. She was still going when Cullen's eyes suddenly went wide. The silence when Varania stopped her chant weighed heavy in the air around them. Cullen's gaze turned to each of them before settling on Ellana.

"We need to leave," Cullen said, with a gripping finality that indicated Varania's magic had definitely lit a fire under the commander's ass.

"Yes, we do," Dorian agreed. "But not before we find that spellbook of Corvus'." He gestured to the red lyrium armor Cullen was wearing. "Unless you are content to trade one addiction with another that is much much worse."

"Dorian is right," Ellana said. "Any ideas how we get it?" She was leaning so far in his direction, he wondered how she was still upright.

"No," he paused a moment for dramatic effect, "but I have an idea about how  _you_  will get it."


	25. Corrosive

**Chapter 25**

_Cullen_

              “Me, huh?” Ellana raised an eyebrow. “I suppose that means you’ve got a plan to get us that book?”

              Dorian only chuckled. “Of course I do. It was my fault we are standing here now, so I will not allow anyone else to take credit for our daring escape.”

              Varania’s eyes darted across their shadowed faces, finally settling upon Dorian. “What did you have in mind?”

              Cullen knew he should believe them. The note he held in his pocket mentioned Dorian. His logic had told him that if Dorian and Ellana’s stories lined up, then he would know who to trust. He’d even seen glimpses of his relationship with Ellana when Varania had unraveled some of his memories. A stolen kiss out on the battlements, the wind whipping her hair around her face, her lips parting for him…  And yet, something pressed uncomfortably against his logic. A thrumming agitation with this very conversation. Something deep inside of himself was fighting to be released and he was sure if he let it take over, he would never regain control.

              He pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing deeply to quiet the battle raging within. “Just spit it out, Dorian. What do you have in mind.”

              The mage wrinkled his forehead and twisted his mustache, his eyes settling upon Cullen. “What has your small clothes in such a knot? Feeling unwell Commander?”

              The truth – that he was feeling like he was being split in two, pulled apart from the insides – was difficult. His response was faster and more appropriately vague for his situation. “Slightly.”

              Varania nodded. “That’s the red lyrium. It still has a heavy influence on you. It will take some time to free you from its poison.”

              Ellana stepped toward the red-haired elf, eyes wide and insistent. “We don’t have ‘some time’.”

              Dorian leaned back against the nearest cell wall. “Which is why you, my dear, will enter Corvus’ room of horrors, steal the book, and come directly back here.” The torchlight flickered, adding an air of uncertainty to the mage’s otherwise straightforward plan. “Meanwhile, our faithful commander will report to Corvus and present the information that he has captured the ‘false herald’. Then, Corvus will not be able to resist coming down here to view his prize. When he does, we will all be here waiting.”

              Ellana’s eyebrows were knitted tightly together. “What if he doesn’t come? Or if someone else comes down here first to alert him?”

              “Dorian has been weakened by the Red Templars, but they haven’t touched me. I can take care of anyone who might come this way,” Varania said.

              Ellana was obviously not convinced. “And how will I find this spellbook? This manor is huge, I could be searching for days.”

              “Well, it just so happens that yours truly did a little investigating before I was inconveniently locked away. Corvus keeps the red lyrium in the room below the East Tower. Trade your traveling clothes for Varania’s house clothes and no one will take you for more than a slave. All of you elves look the same anyway.” Dorian winked and Ellana’s frown relaxed into an easy chuckle.

              Then Dorian turned to him. “And you will intercept Corvus to ensure he doesn’t find Ellana, because if he does, we are all knee-deep in bronto shit.”

              Cullen nodded. “I will just wait outside the door to his quarters, tell the servant it’s urgent business if anyone asks, and wait for him to emerge. He usually heads straight to the dining room for breakfast.”

              “Then stall him. Do whatever you can to make sure Ellana has time to grab the spellbook and then encourage him to come to the dungeon. No guards that way. No red templars happening by.”

              It was a sound plan, if only he could quiet the whispers of discontent amidst his own thoughts. Should he really be helping these people? Was Ellana truly the woman he loved – the woman he still loved?  And if it was really that simple then why was there so much blasted sweat beading on his forehead despite the impenetrable cold in this dungeon.

              Dorian detailed the type of book Ellana was to look for and they decided on exactly how much time she might need. Varania worked a bit of healing magic on Ellana, who was still feeling the effects of the smite spells he had used on her earlier. It took longer than anyone would have liked, but Varania was able to restore some of her strength for the task of stealing the book. Ellana, who despite the healing, was still not back to one hundred percent, had more hand-to-hand combat skills than Varania. Ellana’s skills would be better used outside of the dungeon, whereas Varania’s magic would be just about the only weapon you could actually have space to use down in this cramped pit.

              “I will find Corvus and keep him occupied for a time.” Despite the flutters he was feeling in his chest, he was hoping his squared shoulders and steady face would convince everyone that he was in control… because if they knew how broken he truly was…

              Cullen added a sharp edge to his voice when he spoke his last command. “Be ready when we return.”

              He glanced to Ellana, who offered a smile and reached out to grasp his hand. Cullen pretended not to see her touch coming and whirled away before her hand could reach his. Every time she was near, the closeness ignited feelings within him, feelings that he would rather not have at the moment. Not while he was so… conflicted.

              “See you soon,” she called, but he was already halfway up the stone steps.

              Dawn was coming. The high windows lining the long hallway glowed purple-blue with the looming daybreak. It was still too early for much activity with most of the servants still sleeping, so Cullen strode in silence toward Corvus’ quarters. The sconces lighting the long hallway still burned, their flickering light sending shadows dancing across the walls.

              Cullen approached the double oak doors he remembered belonged to the mage. Even if he hadn’t remembered which door belonged to Corvus, the tapestries hanging on either side of the door might as well have been a name placard. They depicted revelers holding goblets spilling over with wine, bowls spilling over with exotic fruits, and a corseted young woman, her bodice spilling over with… well, Cullen supposed the tapestries reflected the tastes of most men in positions of power. Food and women. This was Corvus’ room alright.

              And now, here he was, ready to wrest away the entirety of this man’s life – his family, his home, his mission – for a tiny hint of a memory. A memory coupled with a feeling, so fleeting but so raw, a feeling that Ellana’s motives were true and that he would follow her anywhere. A feeling that she did, indeed, mean to help and that Corvus had, in fact, brainwashed him.

              But then there was the low growl of discontent coming from some dark place at the very core of himself. What if he was wrong about Ellana? The very marrow in his bones seemed to be groaning against each step he took to face those double doors. If that mage, Varania, had somehow conjured up those images. Magic masked as memory.

              Cullen shuddered at the thought.

              But before he had a chance to wrestle any further with his choices, the doors swung open to reveal the man of the house. Javan Corvus wore a deep purple robe tied with a gold sash and an expression a proud father might wear when his son returns home from battle. Cullen expected a look of shock at finding him this close to his doorway before even the sunlight had found its way inside, but Corvus’ face revealed nothing but calm contentment. He ran a hand through his mussed hair, the only sign that he’d been recently sleeping, and smiled.

              “Back so soon?” he put a hand on Cullen’s shoulder. “My guards gave me the message a few moments ago that you had arrived and taken the prisoner down below.”

              Cullen nodded, not trusting any words that might spill out of his mouth.

              “Well done.” Corvus stepped the rest of the way through the doorway into the hall, closing the doors behind them. “My wife is asleep and I would rather not wake her. Lack of sleep does not suit her well.”

              Corvus stepped alongside him, placing an arm on his back, guiding him to walk beside him down the hall the way he’d come. “I trust you didn’t run into any trouble, then?” He looked Cullen up and down once, assessing him before letting his unwavering gaze settle on his eyes.

              “None at all, my Lord,” Cullen said, trying not to let the knot that had settled in his stomach affect the confidence in his voice. “The false herald was alone, gathering herbs as your instructions predicted.”

              “Good,” he said, seeming satisfied for the moment. “I have something for you.”

              The hall ended, forcing a path either to the left from where Cullen had come, or to the right where his quarters had been as a guest at the Corvus Estate. Corvus headed to the right.  The only sound was the swishing of Corvus’ robes as they trailed along behind him. The two didn’t speak again until they were standing in front of the door to Cullen’s room.

              A dull ache crept across his forehead, settling at his temples. A pulsing, pounding kind of headache that felt less like a simple pain and more like a living thing burrowing into him. Something was not right.

              “I’ve been working on something. A gift of sorts.” Corvus’ eyes gleamed and a corner of his mouth drew upward into a half smile. “I hope you find it pleasing.”

              Corvus drew a key from a pocket in his robes and turned it in the lock. The door fell open, a reddish glow spilling into the darkened hall where the dawn had not yet reached. Cullen pulled his eyes from the floor to the glowing-red suit of armor hanging in the open wardrobe and the tightly wound knot in his gut uncoiled all at once.

              “Samson sent the schematic for the red lyrium armor before you arrived. The templars we’ve helped here all wear pieces of the armor, but this…”

              Corvus stepped into the room, gesturing in a wide arc behind him. “This set is by far the most powerful we’ve managed. The smiths have outdone themselves.”

              Cullen clenched his fists, it was all he could do to try to remember how to stand upright. He was pretty certain his look of panic-stricken nausea was not the thanks Corvus’ was expecting.

              “It’s… it’s incredible.” It was true. There was something about this armor. Something powerful in the pulsating light it heaved about the room. A drumbeat straight through to his heart. The armor was…singing to him. Calling his name through his blood. It knew him and it wanted him and Cullen needed to run, but he could only stare straight ahead.

              Corvus turned, robes spinning with him. “It is, isn’t it?” He strode to the far side of the room and stopped just before the wardrobe. He ran a finger over the armor’s chest plate, admiring the flaming sigil of the templar order emblazoned with red lyrium across the center. Corvus’ fingers found their way to the fur mantle Cullen always wore over his shoulders, even it had been incorporated into this new suit of armor. Brown leathers, steel, and glowing red and somehow his body was responding to it. The armor knew him.

              “Would you do me the honor of trying it on?” Corvus’ voice was nearly drowned out by the thrumming of his own pulse in his veins.

              Cullen swallowed against the invisible hand that suddenly gripped his windpipe.

              “Of course.” He had to, he needed to feel that armor against his flesh. Taste the swelling rhythm of power radiating from it. That was why he came here wasn’t it?

              Cullen crossed the room and stood before the mage, who had picked up the breastplate first. “It should fit over the leathers you wear. Your measurements were taken when you first came to us.”

              Nodding, Cullen fumbled with the straps on his armor. Corvus snapped a finger and suddenly, two servants appeared, unbuckling and lifting his own chest plate off in seconds. His fur mantle caught on a strap and the lithe elf gave a twist, loosening it, along with a piece of paper he’d had tucked underneath in his pocket, sending both items fluttering to the floor.

              Before Cullen even realized what had fallen, Corvus was bent over, retrieving the creased parchment. Over the heads of the two elves who were busy straightening his new armor, Cullen saw Corvus’ lips tighten into a hard line. The paper he held was weather-worn and sweat-stained from riding so close to its bearers’ skin. He could just make out the ink staining through the paper where he’d let his quill sit a moment too long as he thought of the perfect words to write to her. He’d scrawled those words in this very room. He remembered.

              His letter.          


	26. Serve

**Chapter 26**

_Ellana_

               

                The air in Tevinter was thick. Through the open windows in the hall, the dawn air weighed on Ellana like a blanket – humid and heavy, making her long for the crisp morning breezes of Ferelden. The humidity paired with the strong incense in the manor and she would have preferred the dank smell of the dungeon. At least it was cooler down there.

                But Ellana knew she shouldn’t be wasting time wishing for different circumstances, because Cullen was alive and there was a hope he could still get his life back. If there the smallest chance, Ellana knew she would risk anything to help him, even if he still didn’t remember her fully. Even if he didn’t _want_ to remember her. She wasn’t sure which was worse, the Cullen who remembered nothing or the Cullen that obviously remembered something but pretended not to have any feelings at all.

                Rubbing her temples, she tried to refocus her thoughts. She shouldn’t take it personally. Red lyrium was the true enemy and a formidable one at that. She could have lived with the distance he put between them, at least for a little while, but the way he tore his hand away from hers when she’d tried to reach for him…

                She scrunched her eyelids together, fighting against the pinpricks of tears stinging behind her eyes. She heaved a sigh, attempting to find some semblance of control, some visage of peace. She was strong in so many ways, but not with him. He was her soft spot and the Red Templars obviously knew it. She was sure it was Corypheus who set all of this into motion. He would have spies everywhere who had likely seen them together, and knew that the best weapon to fight against her was the man she had fallen in love with.

                No matter the weapon Corypheus had against her, Ellana would fight. She clenched her jaw and lengthened her stride. With Dorian’s instructions, the room below the east tower was not difficult to find. Corvus must have thought it better to hide it in plain view. A grubby splintering door amidst hundreds of doors in a manor this size was likely to be overlooked every time.

                Ellana glanced over her shoulder for the fifth time before reaching down to grip the iron handle. She released a long breath before turning it and pushing the door open. An uneven creak of complaint issued from the door’s hinges before she slipped inside.

                The presence in the room was far more stifling than the Tevinter humidity – magic. It hung about the room like curtains hanging from the ceiling and as she passed through the entry, it became more and more difficult to continue on. And what was that dull humming echoing off the stone walls? A door at the back of the room hung open and a muted red glow pulsed from somewhere deep inside.

                Ellana did not want to stick around to investigate. The presence of red lyrium was enough to send her scurrying from table to shelf to table again in search of the book Dorian described. She needed to find the spellbook. Quickly, quickly, quickly. Her words were a metronome in her mind, keeping time with her hands as she pattied and shuffled, checking every inch of shelf. Footsteps from the back room and she bolted to the door, careful to open it only far enough for her to skate through. The creak it gave as she closed it again barely registered over the pounding of her heart.

                It was all she could do not to scream when the door swung open a second later.

                The Red Templar who came through the door was as large as a great bear and much more heavily armored. “Leaving so soon?” His voice was a low crackle, like bacon popping on a skillet. His eyes reflected the red glow of his pauldrons as he peered around the open door.

                She glanced over her shoulder, looking for an escape route, but there was only one way to the room below the east tower and that was through this bear of a man.

                “I thought this was the store room. Mistress sent me to fetch some rags.” Ellana figured evading a fight wherever possible was usually the smartest option, especially if she wanted to keep this quiet.

                The man grinned, revealing a smile of broken teeth. “I’m not sure about that. The mistress isn’t known for rising early.”

                She used what mana little she could pool together to shield her mind from him. She knew he could use smite on her, as Carroll and Cullen had, and if he did, any fight would be over before it even started. No. This time she was prepared to fight a templar.

                 Her instincts were right. The Templar stepped forward, hand on the hilt of his glowing red sword. “And I don’t remember seeing you before.”

                Well so much for avoiding a fight.

                The dagger Varania had given her was in her hand before the man could even draw his sword and she sidestepped toward him, plunging it toward the soft spot at the inside of his chest plate. But if the broken teeth were any indication, this man was no stranger to battle. He spun on his heel before her weapon found its mark, catching her wrist in his hand and twisting. She used what little remained of her magic to blast him back before he could break her arm, sending a shock of frost into his gut. He winced, clutching his belly as he bent forward, the wind having been knocked out of him.

                She was already panting from exertion, her energy so drained to begin with, that the small spell almost crippled her. She needed to finish this now.

                The man’s face was distorted in pain and rage – his nose wrinkled and he huffed like an angry bull. When he charged, sword in hand, Ellana positioned herself near the stone wall and when he swung it down upon her, she sidestepped even closer to the wall. His sword rang against the stone, showering her with sparks. The impact slowed him down enough for her to get near his side and this time her knife did not miss its mark. She felt it make purchase before she sliced and twisted. He groaned, eyes burning with fury as his sword clattered to the ground.

                As if summoned by the ringing steel against stone, another Red Templar rushed through the door. His eyes were sunken and his skin, pallid, but even if he hadn’t seen much daylight lately, he knew enough to draw a sword and charge at her.

                Stepping back to square herself to his attack, Ellana waited until she could see the reflection of the wall sconces dancing on his blade before she strafed to the side. Without magic, speed was the only advantage she had over these Templar brutes with their heavy armor and lyrium-addled minds.

                Sunken Eyes glanced back at the other Templar, now on his knees in a pool of blood, before collecting himself with a quick breath and charging again. This time he focused on her movement so when she sidestepped again he was there with his sword. It would have come down on her shoulder, but she parried with her dagger, blocking most of the force of the blow. The resulting deflection sent his blade glancing down her arm. She sucked in a breath through her teeth – blood soaked through her robes, but she gripped her dagger harder, pivoting to meet his stare. When he smiled, her anger burned even hotter than the pain in her arm.

                These fallen templars had lost themselves to red lyrium. As the sunken-eyed templar stood sizing her up, she could almost see Cullen looking back at her. The templars were all so vulnerable, relying on lyrium for their power. She wondered how many of them had come here looking for a way out of the misery of withdrawal, like Cullen had, and instead had ended up completely empty inside because of it. Here stood a shell of a man, she reminded herself. This man was a templar no longer.

                Gripping her dagger tightly in her palm, she stalked forward. Pity, regret… these feelings had no place in battle. She had to remain in control of her emotions or end up at the sharp end of the enemy’s sword.

                He stepped back, readying his weapon at her approach. She made her move, a quick sprint to his left and when she was sure his sword arm was about to arc down, she pivoted to his other side, pulling a flaming sconce from the wall and hurling it at him. It bought her a half of a second, all she needed to sweep his feet from beneath him, downing him like a logger would fell a tree.

                His back slapped the wood plank floors and the sound that released from his throat was a half moan, half growl that did not sound entirely human. She knew well enough that anger could be used as a weapon, and this templar was raging mad. Like baiting an angry badger, she stepped toward him, raising her lip into a smug half-smile as he rose to his knees. Ellana was ready when he lashed an impulsive hand out to strike her. She reached for his wrist, twisting his arm behind his back and raising the dagger to his throat. She hissed an order into his ear. “Where are the others?”

                The only answer she received was the ominous thrumming of his red lyrium armor, pulsating, echoing in her bones.

                She repeated her request, pressing the cold blade against the tender skin of his neck. “Where are the rest of the Red Templars?”

                “Corvus sent for most of them a few minutes ago.”

                “Why?”

                She couldn’t imagine what they would all be doing at this time of morning besides maybe riding off to battle _her_. Did that mean Corvus knew she was here? Maybe the guards at the gate hadn’t kept quiet after all. Had the guards sensed something wrong when she and Cullen had crossed through the gates?

                The Templar shifted uncomfortably on his knees. “His scouts saw a group of attackers this morning.” His breath was a wheezy gasp. “They were headed to the front gates.”

                Of course… Varric, Cassandra, and Cole would track her here. They knew about the Red Templar influence and after what Carroll had said about Cullen, they were smart enough to follow her here. She needed to get to the front gates. There could be dozens of Red Templars and there were only three of them. The odds were not great, unless she could gather everyone. With all of them, they would have a chance.

                Having collected all the information she needed, Ellana pulled the dagger away from the Templar’s neck and pounded him in the back of the head with its handle, knocking him out. She held out hope that there would be some way to free them from the hold of the Red Lyrium once she was able to get Varania the book, but they would have to wait. Besides, the look in his eyes said he might be too far gone as it is.

                She strode past the first Templar, now lying crumpled in a crimson pool of his own blood, and turned the handle to the room under the east tower. This time, Ellana hoped she’d have a little more time to locate the book. She needed to gather it quickly and get back to the dungeon to meet Cullen. Get the book before someone noticed the bodies in the hall. Get the book before her friends coming from the South, would be overtaken by an army of Corvus’ Red Templars.

                Shuffling papers, tipping over bottles of ink, and fumbling through dusty tomes on old shelves, Ellana hardly heard the sound issuing from the doorway until it was right behind her. Her stomach dropped, her breath knocked out of her like she’d been punched in the gut – footsteps. She turned around, pulse crashing in her ears, to face the source of the footsteps.

                A robed man with greasy dark hair stood tall in the doorway. When he spoke he placed his hands on his hips, tsking as though reprimanding an unruly child. “Now, now. Is that any way to treat such valuable instruments of science?”

                She felt the man’s magic curling around him, like a fog of power waiting to be collected. This was Javan Corvus.

                He turned, gesturing with a finger to summon someone in the hallway. “Join us. I think you’d be interested to see who’s been nosing around in my experiments.”

                Corvus moved further into the room to allow another shape to fill the doorway. One with broad shoulders, a familiar fur mantle, and strange glowing armor. A shape she knew well, but wished she knew better. A shape she loved, but feared in this moment because his eyes were not his. Still the color of amber, yes, but different – colder somehow. What could have changed in the span of less than an hour? What kind of hold did this mage have on him?

                When those sharp amber eyes met hers, she was sure her heart stopped because the chill of his stare had frozen it solid. Maybe it would never beat again. Maybe this was what it felt like to die. And maybe she didn’t care.

                Because Cullen was lost to her. Again.

               


	27. Retrieve

**Chapter 27**

_Dorian_

              The infernal dripping echoed off the walls of the dungeon, driving him closer and closer to madness with each resounding _plop_. He would have thought that after days living down here he’d be used to it, but it only became worse as his nerves wound tighter and tighter. He was a coiled spring, ready to explode from tension.

               Varania had been no help. He’d tried to make conversation with the elf, to keep himself distracted, mostly small talk, but she answered in single words and grunts. He’d have better luck prying a monologue from a darkspawn grunt.

              What was taking them so long? Ellana should not have taken more than five minutes to walk to the room under the east tower and retrieve the book. Something had happened. Ellana never dilly dallied unless she found a particularly interesting herb or flower and nothing so innocuous was cultivated in this castle, it seemed. This castle grew only nightmares – red lyrium fueled nightmares. Something had happened.

              “We need to do something. This waiting around is beginning to offend my delicate sensibilities.” Dorian finally said, more to convince himself than Varania.

              Varania’s face was as cold as the stone walls around them. “We only have one chance to surprise Corvus. We go up there, we lose it.”

              Dorian pressed his lips together. “Better to lose the element of surprise than two of my dearest friends.”

              The elf shifted uncomfortably on her feet, crossing her arms before releasing a tense breath. Another few minutes passed before she spoke again. “Alright then.” Her green eyes flashed toward the stairs, all the encouragement he needed to lead the way.

              He pressed a hand to the belt at his side, fingering the cold steel of the dagger Varania had given him moments ago. She’d managed to sneak a few weapons in, keeping one and giving the others to himself and Ellana. He would need to rely on it more than he liked, with his own magic being so distant after whatever Corvus had done to him. He hoped they would not encounter a fight… or anyone for that matter. Maybe they could make their way straight to the room under the East Tower before anyone else noticed them.

              “We should try for the book first.” He paused at the top of the stairs leading out of the dungeon, turning back to Varania. “The corridors in that direction are more likely to be vacant anyway. The wing of the manor containing Corvus’ room will likely have more servants milling about.”

              Varania nodded. “Ellana first, then.”

              The cold metal of the door handle seemed to bite back as he turned the knob, chilling him from his fingers all the way up his arm.

              “You sure you’re up to this?” Ellana pressed, noticing his hesitation.

              “No. But if we choose to wait for a knight in shining armor to come and rescue us, we’ll just end up as punching bags for a bunch of Red Templars.”

              Dorian pushed the door with a shoulder, it’s hinges squealing like an angry banshee. So much for the element of surprise, he was sure everyone in this wing of the manor could hear that door open.

              “And what do we do if someone questions us on the way?” Varania asked.

              “Put their lights out,” he responded flatly. “Then Commander Cullen can follow the trail of unconscious bodies right to us.”

              Varania shook her head, “And so could Corvus.”

              Dorian shrugged. They were out of options, so he marched down the hall, using the last of their two advantages, speed and surprise. The first two corridors were completely deserted, but when they rounded the corner into the third hallway, he nearly upended a servant girl carrying a tray of shiny ceramic tea cups. One of the cups shattered against the marble tile floor and she stepped back, eyes as wide as the saucers she carried on her tray.

              “Oh,” she cried. “Oh, the mistress will be –“ her voice trailed off as she bent to retrieve the ceramic shards littering the hallway.

              The servant looked up, placing another sliver of ceramic into her palm, but before she could ask the question Dorian knew she was forming, he nodded to Varania.

              The red-haired mage dropped her shoulders in resignation and nodded back, closing her eyes as her magic swirled in the air around them. In an instant, the servant slumped to the floor. At least this way she wouldn’t run immediately to the servant’s quarters and sound the alert. But there would be nothing to stop more servants from coming upon her and doing the same.

              Dorian ran.

              Another left and they were rounding the final hallway to the East Tower, the pristine tile in the main wing giving way to gray stone slabs of the East wing. The ancient door below the tower was unmistakable at the end of the hall, especially since it hung open letting red light from within spill out into the corridor. Dorian could only imagine what horrors caused the oppressive glow, but even from here, he could feel the burden of the red lyrium. Varania’s brow creased, she was feeling it too.

              As they drew closer, the bodies of two templars came into view, sprawled on the stone, one in a thick puddle of crimson. Cold dread crept over Dorian’s skin like tiny, icy spider-legs. But they couldn’t leave without Ellana and as they neared the door, the dull murmur of far-away voices became more distinct.

              “I don’t know how you managed to drip your poison into his mind again, but believe me, your vile lies have been cleansed, False Herald.” Dorian could not mistake the sickeningly-sweet lilt of the man’s voice. It was Corvus.

              He waved Varania closer, taking care to make sure he was at his side near the door. If he could hear their voices, he might have an idea about where they were in the room, how many there were, and create some kind of plan to overcome them. Varania may even be able to use her magic before Corvus had a chance to fight back.

              A long moment passed in silence and Dorian heard only the drum beat of his own heart.

              “Cullen, don’t do this.” The despair in Ellana’s voice nearly caused him to rush through the door alone. “You have to remember.”

              “Oh but he does,” Corvus said. “He understands your traitorous lies.”

              No other voices. Could he be so lucky? Had Ellana already taken care of the rest of the templars?

              Dorian leaned in close to Varania, whispering into her ear. “I think it’s just Corvus, Cullen, and Ellana. Can you grab onto Corvus’ mind? Stop him from casting?”

              Varania closed her eyes in concentration, then her green eyes darted up to his and she nodded.

              “Good, I will try to free Ellana and deal with Cullen. Just don’t drop your hold on Corvus.”

              Her eyebrows lowered as she let loose a final breath. Dorian attempted to harness the very little mana he had left before he swung open the door and charged straight for the back of Cullen’s head with the hilt of his dagger. He meant to knock him out, just long enough to get control of the situation.

              Corvus barked a warning before Dorian made contact and Cullen whirled around, catching Dorian’s knife arm in a vice-like grip. He tried a spell, but he had so little mana, it was like scooping water from a dried up well and the battle was a short one. Hand to hand combat had never been his cup of tea, and in one motion, Cullen twisted his arm and brought it behind his back, effectively removing his knife and with it, Dorian himself from the battle.

              Varania hadn’t fared any better. She’d managed to hold Corvus’ spells back for several seconds before Cullen sent a powerful silencing spell at her and the mage was thrown against the wall. It looked less like a spell and more like she’d been scooped up by a giant’s hand and tossed aside. The sickening slap of her flesh against the stone made his stomach churn.

              He could only curse his own stupidity. He had sorely underestimated the power of a Red Templar’s silence spell.

              Ellana’s face was an unsavory shade of green and judging by the way her shoulders drooped, he guessed she’d been silenced by Cullen recently too. She’d also been unarmed and her hands were tied. Despite her situation, she made a last-ditch effort, charging Corvus with a shoulder aimed at his chest.

              Before she made contact, Ellana crashed into an invisible wall, the only physical sign of its existence was the subtle arc of bending light where it stood. Corvus stood arm extended, palm flat before dropping his arms and letting the wall disappear. The side of his lip twitched into a smirk and at that instant he knew. He had won.

              “Well isn’t this nice?” He looked to Cullen, his voice taking on the air of a dinner party host instead of that of a dark mage with the power to control a templar army. “We’re all together now. So glad you could join us,” he said, offering Dorian a half-bow.

              “Wouldn’t miss it for anything,” Dorian managed, though his throat was drier than a sand dune in the Hissing Wastes.

              Cullen dragged him to a stone table in the center of the room, stooping to retrieve a set of manacles that dangled below and fastened them around his arms. Dorian told his body to fight, but the message seemed to be lost, stifled under the weight of the red lyrium. It was a palpable thing, thick in the air, making an easy fight one that they simply could not win. The red lyrium was an army itself.

              When Cullen turned to deal with Ellana, now crawling to her feet, Dorian gave the manacles a shake, tugging his hands and trying to wriggle them through the rings. But the rusted metal was tight, leaving little hope of squeezing his hands through. He could only watch as Cullen handled Ellana with one arm, heaving the woman he loved to her feet and forcing her to kneel before Corvus who smiled.

              Then a shadow crossed Corvus’ features, twisting his smile into a repulsive, twisted thing and he waved a hand. “Strap her down. We will end this right now.”

             

             


End file.
